Patricia Williams and the Sea of Chaos
by ModernDayBard
Summary: Apophis and Gaea have both been defeated, but a new magician in Brooklyn House is soon to discover a major similarity between demigods and magicians—they don't get breaks. (Percy Jackson/Kane Chronicles Cross-Over; AU picking up after Staff of Serapis; Rated T to be safe.) Complete.
1. Prologue

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here, with my latest full-length fic. This one is a sort-of crossover of the Percy Jackson and Kane Chronicles worlds. (I say 'sort of' because it has been established by the author that the two worlds are one and the same, and he himself has written at least two 'crossover stories' already—in my mind, it's a viable, self-contained world, not a cross-over. Not really.)  
** **Anyhow, I don't own either series, or the characters/places associated therewith.**

Patricia Atalanta Williams, or 'Cia' as she preferred to be called, was a bit of a mystery to her adoptive family, despite having been with them since she was six months old. They didn't mind the mystery, though (being magicians in the DC Nome, they were used to strange things). Still, when she started asking questions about why she couldn't work magic as well as the few other children in the Nome, why she could only cast spells with the help of potions, amulets, scrolls and the like, they were forced to tell their young daughter just how much they didn't know about her origins.

The first things they knew about her was what the adoption agency had told them: that a strange man had brought a days-old infant girl into the offices, handed her to a startled secretary, told the frightened woman that the girl's name was Patricia Atalanta and that she needed a home, then vanished before anyone could ask him anything.

"The woman he handed you to thought he might be your biological father or maybe an uncle, as she said your eyes were the same, but she never knew for sure," Mrs. Williams told the girl whenever Cia asked for the story (which happened occasionally over the years). "Meanwhile, we were looking for a little girl to adopt, since we couldn't have children, and six months later, we saw you and knew you were the one for us. It doesn't matter if magic comes easy to you or doesn't: you're our daughter, and we love you."

* * *

There weren't many other children in their Nome, but there Cia did have one close friend, Maxwell Kalyon, the son of the head of the Nome, who was a year older than her. Magic came much easier to the boy, but he never lauded it over his friend, instead, doing his best to train her and help her learn. His efforts _did_ help her with the concepts and theories, but nothing seemed to help her actually _do_ magic. Now having learned of her (likely) non-Egyptian heritage, Cia simply accepted that magic was not in her blood and would always be a struggle for her.

* * *

As idyllic (if unusual) as her early years may have been, trouble loomed on the horizon. One December, shortly before she turned sixteen, she overheard her parents and the other adults grumbling about an 'embarrassment' at the Washington Monument. Later that year, an audio tape came out after the new Chief Lector had died, purporting to explain recent events.

After much debate, the DC Nome decided to side with Brooklyn House and Amos Kane, the youngest magicians (the ones least set in their ways) opting to begin learning the path of the gods. Cia, of course, was the one exception. Her parents insisted that the teen would be putting herself in danger if she tried, given her current difficulty with magic. Thus, she was relegated to observer and encourager, especially of Maxwell, who was studying the path of Sobek.

* * *

Even this wouldn't have been a harbinger of disaster, had it not been for Sarah Jacobi and her rebels. As the serpent and the rebels increased the frequency and fervor of their attacks on the Nomes that followed the Kanes, the Kalyons and Williams urged the young magicians to practice the path of the gods in secret, and made plans to send the youngest members of their Nome to Brooklyn House to help out and keep them safe. The night before the relocation, Sarah Jacobi arrived, with a hoard of blood-thirsty magicians at her back.

It was an absolute slaughter.

The DC magicians were mostly a family-oriented, non-combative group, and Jacobi's group was experienced at such butchery. Cia, normally no coward, found herself trying to hide behind a tapestry in an alcove, when one of the rebels found her.

The woman grinned maliciously at the frightened girl in front of her, raising her wand in preparation.

" _NO!"_ Mrs. Williams's piercing scream cut through the battle as she raced towards her daughter, wand raised. The enemy magician froze the older woman with a spell, the smirked in a cruel taunt.

"You want your little squirt to live? You want me to spare her?" Cia, wide-eyed, watched her mother nod, a sob caught in her throat.

The enemy magician took another step towards Mrs. Williams. "Then beg. _Beg_ me to spare the little—"

"Please!" Mrs. Williams cut in as soon as her mouth was unfrozen. "She's not a threat to you—she doesn't study the path of the gods—she's adopted, any magic is hard for her—you don't have to kill her!"

Ordinarily, Cia would have been embarrassed and hurt to hear her mother spill out her secrets and shortcomings in front of anyone, much less a hostile force. But she knew that it was meant as a protection, as an appeal to whatever pity or mercy the foe may have had. _Please, don't hurt my mom—don't take her away from me!_

"A life for a life then? Willing to make that trade?"

 _No—Mom, don't!_

"Yes, please! Just don't hurt my baby!"

The other woman laughed at the mother's distress. "Oh, you just bargained for her life—you don't have any leverage to keep me from _hurting_ her."

Before Cia or her mother could protest or fight back, their attacker turned her wand on Cia again, and the girl could hear the magician's voice in her head, whispering over and over: _"A cat. A weak, poor, defenseless kitty cat who can't stop her world from falling apart—that's what you are!"_

To that chorus, Cia felt herself being pinched, pulled, and shrunk against her will into a form that was not her own. She cried out in the pain of it, but halfway through, it was a cat's screech. She heard her mother cry out, but before her mind could adjust to her new eyes, someone ran up behind her and scooped up the small tabby form, running away from the battle.

Reacting instinctively, she hissed and lashed out with her claws, but she was too small, unable to stop whoever it was from carrying her out into the night.

 **So yeah. Just FYI to people put off by the style of this chapter: other chapters will be more descriptive and less of an overview, as this was the prologue I felt the need to give character background and necessary information to set up the rest of the story and establish time period (the next chapter will take place during the last KC book, and the rest of the story will take place after the end of that book and** _ **Blood of Olympus**_ **).  
** **Speaking of other books, the subsequent chapters will be first person, as a nod to both original series. There will be alternating narrators, so look for character names to differentiate who is speaking.  
** **I think that's all that needs to be established at this point in time. If you saw something you like, or something you think I can fix/improve on next time, don't hesitate to leave a review to let me know!**


	2. 1 The Cat and the Crocodile

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! Now that we get into the story proper, scenes will (mostly) be in first person, so don't forget to look for the names of the character as each scene starts to tell you who's speaking.  
** **As always, I don't own the Percy Jackson Series or the Kane Chronicles.**

 _Maxwell:_

My pulse was racing as I ran as fast as I could from the battle, Cia's and my bags thrown over my shoulder, and a hissing, spitting tabby cat in my arms. In retrospect, I probably should have warned her before grabbing her like that, but there wasn't time—I was too late to save our parents, but I sure as _hell_ was not leaving my best friend to be murdered by those _lunatics_!

I also wasn't about to let her watch her own mother die—that wasn't something she needed to see, not guilt she needed to live with. I wanted to close my eyes against the fresh memories assaulting me, but running blind didn't seem to be a particularly good idea.

 _*"Run, Maxwell!" My dad yelled, tossing me the go-bag I'd packed a few hours before. It had my magic supplies and a few changes of clothes—just enough to get me to Brooklyn House. "Get anyone you can and get them out of here!"_

" _I'm not leaving you, Dad!" I called, hearing my voice break and hating myself for it. "We can win this!"_

 _Instead of answering, he just threw me Cia's bag and gave me the glare I knew I couldn't disobey. I wanted to protest, wanted to fight—I was a combat magician for crying out loud! Just then, my dad shoved me to the side, and a flying_ njeri _blade caught him in the chest: a blade I knew had been aimed at_ _me_ _. I want to say that that triggered my battle-rage, allowed me to summon my avatar form for the first time and absolutely destroy the rebels._

 _It didn't._

 _All it made me do was scramble backwards, disappear into the clamor, looking for someone I_ _could_ _save. That's when I saw that_ _witch_ _turn Cia into a cat and start to attack Mrs. Williams. Without thinking, I ran in, picked up the cat that used to be my best friend, and ran out the door, praying we wouldn't be followed.*_

Cia's claws ripped into my arms again, bringing me out of the flashback. "Ow!" I called before I could stop myself. Trying to speak quieter out of fear of pursuit, I hissed under my breath, "Cia—Cia! Calm down, it's me: Maxwell. I'm trying to _help_ you for Ra's sake!"

Th clawing mercifully stopped, but she was still struggling slightly. I could only imagine how scared she was—unwilling transformations were bad enough, but in the middle of a massacre? No wonder she wasn't in her right mind. "I promise, as soon as we can safely stop, I _will_ figure out a way to get you out of this, change you back." I meant it, but it would be easier said than done: combat magic was about the only thing I was better than decent at. Transformations like this were complicated, and Cia wouldn't be able to help me much without her potions or amulets.

As I adjusted my grip, I felt our bags slam against my back. I had to hope that, once we were safely away, there'd be something in one of them that could help.

I kept straining my ears, listening for a pursuit, but there was nothing. I didn't let myself relax though—gods, I didn't know if I ever _could_ relax again without the horror of those moments returning. Where were the magicians of the First Nome? Of Brooklyn House? We had lost everything because we supported them so why couldn't they show up when _we_ needed _them_?

Just ahead, I spotted my target—the Freer Gallery, home of over a thousand ancient Egyptian artifacts. If I could summon a portal from anywhere, it would be here. But where to? Brooklyn was too highly shielded against an attack; we'd been planning to fly, but that was now out of the question. Where else was safe? Where else could we go and not risk other magicians? What could I do that those rebels—those _butchers_ —wouldn't expect? I mentally ran down a list of museums that held significant Egyptian collections, discarding any that seemed too obvious until I stood before my artifact of choice: a wood-and-glass coffin mask from the New Kingdom.

Finally, I picked a destination and started chanting. I'd likely only get one shot to get this right before Jacobi and her wolf pack found me. In my state then and there, I wouldn't have minded getting another crack at them, even if it meant I died, but I had to take care of Cia—get her to safety and change her back, like I'd promised—before I did anything stupid.

Just as I heard foot steps behind me, the portal opened and I jumped through.

* * *

I twisted as I fell through the swirling sand so that I'd land on our magic bags and my back. Hardly a comfortable landing, and I could only hope that no important vials or amulets had been broken, but it was better than landing on top of the tabby cat I still had a hold on. Even before I scrambled back to my feet, I barked the command for 'close' at the portal, and was rewarded by the sight of it disappearing before anyone could follow us through. The mask would need a cool-down before it could be used, and though there were plenty of artifacts in the gallery, unless they knew where we'd gone, we likely wouldn't have any company for the night.

 _Just in case, though..._

Sitting up, I rummaged through my bag, coming up with two (mercifully) undamaged, identical amulets. They were designed to prevent magical surveillance from finding us, so long as we didn't do anything big to attract attention.

 _Like turn a magician back from a cat into a human?_

Angrily, I discarded the thought as I tied one amulet around Cia's neck before slipping on the other one. She seemed to have calmed down, or at least, she was in more control of the cat's instincts. For the first time since the nightmare had begun, I let myself really look at what that witch had done to her. Her feline form was small, even for a cat, but no munchkin, at least. Her fur was short, though judging from the front of my shirt, she was prone to shedding. For the most part, her fur was a light shade of brown, but the markings were the same dark shade that her hair had been. The weirdest part though was her eyes. In shape, they were unmistakably cat's eyes, but instead of the yellow color I'd expected, they were sea green, just like Cia's had been.

"Sorry, Cia but that's just weird—and a little creepy."

She hissed at me, but didn't really put her heart into it. That was, until she glanced to the side and saw what artifact our portal had connected to: a mummy, but not a human mummy. The small form was undoubtedly feline. The sea-green eyes narrowed at me, and I held up my hand, my arms still throbbing from where she'd clawed me. "Hey, when I said Atlanta, I knew we'd get the Michael C. Carlos museum, but how was I supposed to know which artifact especially? The mummies _are_ the big draw of the exhibit..."

Suddenly, I was exhausted, and we'd probably have security on our backs soon. With a groan, I stood and picked up our bags. "Let's get out of here, change you back, and bed down for the night. In the morning, once things have cooled down, we'll summon another portal. If we keep hopping around to where they don't expect, we can throw them off. Once we're free of any tails—" I faltered, glancing at the glaring tabby sitting in front of me, then shrugged helplessly, "—er—of any variety—we can work our way to Brooklyn."

Cia let her head droop in surrender, and I picked her up again, more carefully this time, slipping out of the museum and onto the early-morning streets of Atlanta.

* * *

"Next time, I'm finding the most rural location of an Egyptian artifact possible," I grumbled forty minutes later, still trying to find a safe camping place. I was comfortable in woods, fields, etc.—my dad and I went camping a lot—but in the city, I was afraid of being too exposed, of being discovered by locals, law enforcement, or Jacobi's jackals.

In desperation, I finally ducked into a seemingly abandoned building and eased our bags off my aching shoulders, then let Cia down to the floor. I rummaged through my bag, trying to find something—anything—that would help me restore my friend to her true form. The best I could come up with was a potion meant to enhance magical strength. I'd hoped to save it, but this was an emergency. Just as I was about to uncork the vial, Cia dug her claws into my leg.

"Ow!" I yelped, staring at the tabby before me. "I'm trying to help!" But I couldn't keep meeting those sea-green eyes. Cia and I had grown up together, and sometimes didn't need words to communicate.

This was one of those times.

It was obvious that she didn't want me to use the potion. Her reasoning made sense, on one hand: we were on our own, for who knows how long before we'd be able to stock up on magical supplies. With enemies chasing us down, that potion may be the one thing that would keep us alive later down the line. But I _needed_ her to come back. I'd just watched our families, our friends—anyone else we'd ever known and loved—die in front of me. Cia and I only had each other, and right now, I didn't even have her, not really. I couldn't save any of them; so, to stay sane, I _had_ to save my friend.

Cia was still glaring at me, waiting for me to put the potion away. "Fine," I grumbled, stowing the vial and pulling out my wand instead. Holding it out, just over her head, I closed my eyes, picturing Cia as I knew her.

Her hair was dark brown, almost black, cut in a pixie style and usually a little windblown. Her skin was a little pale, but not unhealthily so. Sea green eyes, of course, usually sparking with a laugh. She was a little on the short side, barely reaching 5'4", but built lithe, with a nice figure, I guess. Nice enough to pull off the linen practice garments without looking ridiculous—a feat not many people were able to accomplish.

I concentrated on the mental image, trying to somehow force it onto the cat in front of me, but I didn't really know how to do so. After what felt like an eternity, I opened my eyes, but just as I feared, noting about the tabby facing me had changed. I tried again, several more times, but nothing kept happening.

The combat magician in me hated admitting defeat, and two suffer two crushing blows in one night hammered away at me. I let the wand fall, unable to face the brown-and-black form still staring up at me hopefully. "I'm sorry, Cia," I whispered, my voice cracking for the second time that night. "I—I don't know what to do. I—I can't..."

I had to stop for fear of breaking down, turning away and trying to restrain a scream. Eventually, I was aware of something warm and furry pressing against my arm. Looking down, I saw Cia curled up next to me, trying to convey forgiveness and comfort. She was trapped in a form that was not her own, her world in shambles around her, and she was still trying to help me. Once again, no words were needed, her message plain:

 _"We've both lost too much to abandon each other now."_

* * *

 _Cia:_

We traveled for about a week, hopping from obscure museum to odd location, hopping to throw off anyone who was still trailing us. I'd discovered, unintentionally, that I could help Maxwell open the portals, so long as we were in close physical contact. I couldn't form the spell, but I could transfer some of my energy to him. Don't ask me how I knew I could, it was mostly by instinct. It helped prevent magical exhaustion, but, as we discovered quickly, it didn't help him change me back. We tried every night, to no avail. Maxwell even tried channeling Sobek's power, but the crocodile god was a combat specialist; transformations were beyond his scope.

The green aura flickered out, and Maxwell growled in frustration, all but shouting, "That's not helpful!"

I glanced around the woods we'd been in for the past few days, hoping the outburst hadn't attracted much attention. Satisfied we were still alone, I glanced back at him. Had Sobek given Maxwell a clue? He might not have thought it helpful, but after a week and a half of living as a cat, I was desperate! I'd even stooped to hunting the night before. Maxwell had been trying to split supplies with me, but human food just didn't sit right in my cat stomach, so after he fell asleep, I'd managed to track down a squirrel. To my utter horror, I'd liked it. I needed to get out of this form and remember how to be human!

 _"A cat. A weak, poor, defenseless kitty cat who can't stop her world from falling apart—that's what you are!"_ The woman's voice and words kept echoing through my head, making me wonder if I'd ever be able to change back—or if I even deserved to. _Stop it Cia! She just said that to get you to doubt yourself. Don't give her what she wants!_

Maxwell sat down with a groan, burying his head in his hands. I hated seeing him like this—for all my life, one of the constants had been his strength and confidence. Some might have seen it as arrogance, but I coveted his assurance, his familiarity with magic. He was taller than I was in my human body—around five-foot-ten—reasonably built without over-doing it, with curly dark hair, brown eyes, and lightly-tanned skin.

Hoping to both comfort my friend and encourage him to tell me whatever it was Sobek had said, I nudged his leg with the top of my head. It scared me, sometimes, how easy the feline mannerisms came. Absently, Maxwell let one hand fall and rest on my back before finally turning his head to face me.

"Sobek seems to think that there's nothing I can do to help you." It was clear from his tone that Maxwell refused to agree. "His exact words were: 'The little cat's the only one that can bring your friend back. There's nothing the two of us can do.'" At the end of the quote, Maxwell stood and began pacing around our small campsite. "I'm not going to accept that—there has to be a way. If we have to go to Brooklyn House and get Bast herself to help—"

Silence fell as he cut himself off and turned to me, our eyes meeting as one possible interpretation of Sobek's advice dawned on us at the same time. At first, his brown eyes lit up with the excitement and life they'd once held, then they dimmed once more as worry set in. "I'm not sure, Cia. The path of the god's isn't—"

I purposefully turned away then and closed my eyes, trying to tune out his speech not from rudeness, but determination. This was our one good chance, but I knew Maxwell couldn't bring himself to actually suggest it. Well, it was my choice, not his.

I crouched down and wrapped my tail around my paws, eyes closed in concentration. I'd never really been taught how to follow the path of the gods, but given that I'd discovered my ability to help Maxwell with spells more-or-less by instinct, I decided to approach this transformation the same way. Taking a deep breath, I silently called out, hoping for some kind of response.

" _Bast?"_

" _Yes, my kitten?"_

I almost opened my eyes in shock—that was a much faster response than I had expected!

" _I know I'm not blood of the pharaohs, and the path of the gods should be impossible for me but—"_

" _...But, as you have spent an extended period of time in this form, I am able to form a connection with you. If you wish, I can help you to change back, then leave you to the magic you are most familiar with. Or..."_

" _...Or I could follow_ _your_ _path? Won't that burn me up?"_

" _Not if we leave a bit of the cat in you during the transformation, so to speak. As I am the goddess of cats, that would preserve the bond between us, allow me to help you learn_ _my_ _form of combat magic."_

" _What exactly is entailed in 'leaving a bit of the cat in me'?"_

" _Feline intuition, confidence, reflexes, and one or two instincts. A bit of the mind of the cat, if you will. What do you say, my kitten?"_

I hesitated another second, thinking of the squirrel the night before, but the harsh sting of the enemy's accusations—that I was weak, useless, helpless—made the offer all the more appealing.

" _I'll take it. You just found a new pupil for the path of Bast!"_

" _Then let us begin, my kitten."_

I braced myself, expecting pain. This time, however, the change didn't hurt, though it did feel strange, leaving me light-headed for a second. I wast still in a kneeling position, and when my head stopped reeling, I opened my eyes to see Maxwell kneeling in front of me, a grin on his face and his hands on my shoulders—my _human_ shoulders.

"You did it!" He exclaimed, wrapping me in a bone-crushing hug. "You're back!"

I returned the hug, both of us finally able to look to the future with at least a touch of hope. Then it occurred to me that I felt like purring, if I'd been able to.

 _Oh boy. This is going to be interesting._

* * *

We took it more slowly after that, in one sense—spending at least two days in one place before moving on—but faster in that we never stayed more than four. We couldn't—with both of us now practicing the path of the gods, the risk of being tracked was too great to allow us more rest than that.

At least now we were Brooklyn-bound, more-or-less directly, and we were still able to cast spells together as well as individuals. We weren't really up-to-date on the news in any sense of the term, and it wasn't like the fight against Apophis was plastered all over the front page, but it was pretty clear that things were getting pretty bad. There was no escaping the fact that something had to give, and soon.

Then, one night, it did.

We'd just made the jump to Connecticut, the Peabody Museum of Natural History, in fact, and found an abandoned building in the quieter side of town to hide out in for a day or two. We were too tired from the portal to practice that night, which meant we were more awake as we set up camp. It started out normal enough, bantering back and forth. We'd learned early on to not talk, or think, if we could help it, about our last night at home, choosing instead to focus on either happier days or the potentially-exciting future at Brooklyn House.

When the magical disturbance hit, it stopped us both cold. Even after Bast's 'intervention', I'd not been particularly good at sensing changes and ripples in the Duat, and even _I_ could feel that something massive had just happened.

"What was _that_?"

"Well," Maxwell began, trying to sound casual, but he still hadn't moved from his half-crouched position, sleeping roll in hand, "given that world hasn't ended and that the sun is still present in the sky, I'm going to say that they beat Apophis."

 _That easily? After all that build-up?_ "Already?"

Apparently, Maxwell misunderstood my surprise and winked at me, finally straightening as he teased, "Why, yes. How _dare_ they face him without us?"

I giggled—I couldn't help myself. Maxwell always knew how to get me to laugh, usually by making ridiculous statements like that. "But of course!" I responded in like teasing tone. "Didn't they know that two of the best combat magicians were just days away?"

At that, we both lost it, collapsing into a laughing fit as we sat down. As the chuckles subsided however, I found that I couldn't shake an uneasy feeling, even with the threat of the end of the world nullified.

" _Bast?"_

There was a long pause, during which my worry grew.

" _Yes, my kitten?"_

Over-powering relief washed over me. _"What took you so long?"_ I tried to tease. _"You fall asleep when I'm trying to celebrate the fact that world didn't end?"_

" _The victory came at a cost, Patricia."_ I never had been able to get her to call me by my preferred nickname. _"Apophis has been execrated, forced from the world, but the gods must retreat as well to preserve Ma'at."_

My dread returned. _"What do you mean 'retreat'?"_

" _Magicians will still be able to follow the path of the gods, channel our power, but we will not be able to directly communicate with them anymore. For instance, I must follow Ra into the heavens. I cannot greet you at Brooklyn House as we'd hoped."_

" _Then how are we still talking if you're not allowed to speak with mortals?"_

I felt her presence brush by the part of my mind that wasn't really mine—the bit of the cat she'd left behind. _"Call it a loophole, if you will. Technically, I'm not speaking to a magician."_

" _Technically, you're checking in on a cat—performing your duties as the cat goddess?"_

" _Yes. Our..._ _unique_ _bond will allow me to help you more than I would otherwise be able to. However, we must not exploit this too much, as the other gods may grow suspicious. I will be here when you need me, but you must sharpen your claws on your own. You will find good help at Brooklyn House."_

I didn't answer for the longest time. Bast had been such a help in the past few weeks, guiding us where she could and giving us more helpful feedback than Sobek during our practice sparring sessions. More than that, her hands-on approach had been invaluable to me, as new as I was to most practical magic, much less the path of the gods. And if I was honest, she'd become a mother-figure so soon after I lost my own. I couldn't bear to lose her, too. But if I didn't say goodbye, I'd regret it.

" _Hunt well, Bast."_

" _Be vigilant, my kitten."_

* * *

 _Maxwell:_

At least Cia got a goodbye with her godly mentor. All I got when I tried to contact Sobek was an emptiness—a divine dial-tone. _Spend half a year training with his magic, understanding him more and more, and he just leaves? Great._

I tried not to let it bug me too much, though. I mean, it's not like Sobek is a sentimental guy. It's been said before, and I will say it again: Sobek pretty much only respects strength. He'd want me to be strong enough to not care that he was no longer right there. I had to prove I could handle things on my own, now, if he was going to keep lending me his power.

That night, as we sat around after dinner, our discussion of the future had to factor in a new world. "Do we still want to go to Brooklyn House?" I asked, figuring I'd start with taking a shot at the elephant in the room.

Cia blinked in confusion. "Where else could we go?"

"Well," I began, "More places will probably start teaching the path of the gods, now. We could go anywhere—the First Nome, London, Texas. Heck, they'll need to start repairing Nomes that the rebels destroyed. Maybe even..." I cleared my throat before finishing, "...maybe they'll even restart the DC Nome. We could go home."

Cia brought her knees up near her chin, wrapped her arms around her legs, and didn't meet my eyes. "Is that what you want to do?" she asked at last.

I paused, considering my honest answer to her question. "Maybe someday," I admitted at last. "I don't think I could right now." _I can't face my parents' grave yet._

She nodded, as if agreeing with what I didn't say. Hell, she probably guessed it anyway. We'd grown up together—knew each other too well. "Even if they start learning in other places," she said at last, going back to the original topics, "Brooklyn House is still the best place to learn, at least for now. That's where Carter and Sadie will be."

She had a point, and as we couldn't quite bring ourselves to look past our arrival, the conversation moved on to other, meaningless topics. It wasn't until later that it struck me that we hadn't even considered splitting up.

 _At this point—after all we've been through—how could we?_

* * *

Four days later, we arrived at Brooklyn House at last. It was just like the recordings had described it: a cube-shaped mansion wedged incongruously atop a ramshackle warehouse. As we walked up, travel-worn and looking who-knows- _how_ -tired, we looked up to see two figures waiting for us.

Carter and Sadie, standing side-by-side, arms crossed, at the top of the stairs, in front of the front door.

It was an intimidating sight, to say the least, but instead of feeling worried, I just felt angry. All of the resentful thoughts that had begun the night of the attack—all of the 'where were you's and 'why didn't you help us if we helped you's—came back in full force, compounded by my exhausted state.

It _really_ didn't help that Sadie's first words were, "A little late to the party—I suppose you're going to say you're sorry for not believing us from the start about Apophis and now you want to learn the path of the gods?"

Carter nudged his sister to quiet her, but the resentment in her tone flashed across his face for a second, and I had to resist the urge to hit one or both of them. Cia apparently was in my frame of mind, as she all but snarled at the other girl.

 _Wait—snarl? That's not like Cia. Either she's even more tired than I am, or that 'cat mind' Bast left in there is affecting her more than she lets on._

Aloud, I was on a completely different tack. "Well, I'm so _sorry_ for being late. If we'd known you'd needed us, we wouldn't have taken our sweet time."

Carter frowned at me, but it was a thoughtful frown, at least. Sadie was just scowling at my sarcastic tone. _Get used to it—I am_ _not_ _in the mood to be nice._

"I know you, don't I?" he asked, his hand finally leaving the hilt of his _khopesh_ sword. "I've seen you before at one of the other Nomes, this summer."

"You met with my dad," I admitted, still unable to keep the growl completely out of my voice. "Michael Kalyon."

The name stopped them, their anger draining out, replaced with something else—guilt maybe? "From DC," Sadie muttered to herself, her face stricken. "Oh, gods of Egypt, I didn't know..."

Carter just looked surprised. "There were survivors? How?"

I looked away then, defiance giving way to shame for the moment. "We—I ran away. We've been hopping from museum to museum, working our way here. We had some setbacks that delayed us..."

A hand on my shoulder made me look up. It was Carter, and something in his eyes told me he understood. Given what I'd heard from the first two recordings, maybe he did, in a way. "You got each other here, at least. You'll be safe here, and you can train. Y-You already started learning the path, right?"

"Yeah," I choked out. "We're both combat magicians. I'm Sobek, and Cia's Bast."

 _That_ caught them off-guard. I knew they had bad blood with the crocodile god, and I'd anticipated trouble to stem from that, but I thought they'd been on good terms with Bast?

"B-Bast?" Sadie spluttered. "H-How? W-Why?"

Cia's sea green eyes were slanted away, not meeting anyone else's gaze as she tried to shrug and give a casual response. "Long story. Let's just say she was the only one I really connected with." I guess it made sense that she didn't want to talk about her transformation, or about her non-Egyptian heritage. I'd take my cue from her, let her divulge what information she was comfortable with. "So," she said at last, "can we come in or what? 'Cause I'm freaking tired of camping out and roughing it."

Carter recovered faster than his sister, stepping aside and opening the door. "O-of course. Come on in, wash up, and we'll show you to your rooms. Our scryers saw you coming, so we were able to get some stuff ready. Welcome to Brooklyn House."

 _At least he didn't dare say 'welcome to your new home' or something like that._

 **So, yeah. This chapter ended up being MUCH longer than I'd anticipated. Well, I got to the end at last! And yes, all three museums mentioned by name are actual museums with significant Egyptian collections, and the artifacts I described are really there. At least, according to Wikipedia, they are. Hopefully, I won't be so long-winded in future chapters, but I guess I'll have to write them to find out.  
** **Anyway, if you liked it, or saw something you think I can improve on/fix next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	3. 2 Strange Magic

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here with the second chapter of my PJ/KC fanfic. Nothing too special to note this time, except that the part from Maxwell's perspective takes place during the short story Rick Riordan released,** _ **Son of Sobek**_ **. I'll do my best to fill in pertinent details where they are needed so that it's not necessary to have read that story or** _ **Staff of Serapis**_ **, its sequel, but I do highly recommend them.  
** **In reply to the guest review on the last chapter: Yes, it was Jacobi that took out Michael Kalyon, but it was another one of her followers who turned Cia into a cat. (I know it's not much detail, but since the rebels will not be playing a major role in this fic, I didn't want to develop a fully fleshed-out character for one moment. Besides, Cia wouldn't know the rebels, or recognize anyone but maybe Kwai and Jacobi.)  
** **As always, I don't own Percy Jackson or the Kane Chronicles.**

 _Cia:_

You wouldn't think a stone headrest in place of a pillow would be comfortable, but after all of our running around and sleeping where we could, I don't think either Maxwell or I much minded Brooklyn Houses' dream protection.

When Sadie had first shown me to my room, we'd been met by a girl named Alyssa, who was apparently going to be my roommate. I figured sharing my room would take some getting used to, but for the moment, I was glad she was there. Sadie had been acting nice enough, but every now and again she'd glare at me when she thought I wasn't looking. I didn't know why and it was getting under my skin. Much more of that and I'd have lashed out, which, in hindsight, would have been a terrible impression. At least with Alyssa there, there was somebody else present to neutralize the tension.

After Sadie left, I spent some time talking with Alyssa, learned she came from a family of potters and was studying the path of Geb. All I said was that I was from DC and studying the path of Bast, and she seemed to get the message that I didn't really want to talk about my past. After that, she helped find what I needed to get ready for bed, then slipped out, as I was turning in pretty early.

When I woke early the next morning, my first morning in Brooklyn House, I did my best to return the favor, quietly changing into fresh practice garments before slipping out onto the balcony. It was a little cool outside, given that the fall equinox had passed by now, but I didn't really care at that moment. Instead, I was focused on what for the past week had become a part of my morning routine. Sitting as comfortable as I could in the pre-dawn air, I closed my eyes, concentrating.

" _Bast?"_

By trial and error, Bast and I had hit on a compromise solution. For one hour every few mornings I would converse with the cat goddess, who would ramble about cats in general, her past, or even combat techniques. The more I learned, the easier I found the hands-on practice session, even without her voice in my head coaching me.

" _Yes, my kitten?"_

" _We made it to Brooklyn House last night. We're here."_

" _I've noticed—I recognize the smell. Is it what you expected?"_

" _Not sure. I really didn't know what to expect. I don't think Sadie likes me much, though."_

That seemed to surprise the cat goddess. _"Sadie? That's odd. Of all my kittens at Brooklyn House, she seemed the most welcoming of newcomers. What could have changed?"_

Ironically, her confusion cleared mine up. That was the first time I'd heard her refer to anyone else as her 'kitten', a title I assumed had been exclusive, given our unique situation. Sadie had been close to Bast, according to the recordings, now that I thought of it. She must've seen me as taking her place as the goddess's preferred mortal. Worse, I couldn't think of a way to diffuse the situation.

" _Eh, it doesn't matter—I'm sure she'll come around. Here we were thinking Maxwell would have the hardest time here; Sobek and all."_

" _Yes, it did surprise me at first that you traveled with one of the crocodile's disciples, but I warmed to him for your sake."_

" _For my sake? Because I was traveling with him?"_

" _In part...but more so because of how you feel for him. Your emotions and preferences do influence me as much as mine do you."_

" _Wait—how I feel for him? You know we're just friends—right?"_

Bast's amusement was a palpable presence in my mind as she replied. _"Oh, my kitten. Would you deny your own feelings? It is clear that he has your heart. I can tell that much without even delving deep."_

Before I could decide whether to admit it or whether to hastily change the subject, a hand on my shoulder rattled me from the conversation and made me open my eyes.

"Patricia?" Alyssa asked hesitantly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I replied, standing. "Just—uh—meditating, sort of. Is it time for breakfast yet?"

"Right this way," she said, leading me out of our room and towards the buffet table next to the pool.

As we walked, I thought about what Bast had said. Was she right? _*Well, she's not wrong, so I guess the question is, now that I can't deny it, what am I going to do about it?*_

* * *

I didn't really have much time to focus on the dilemma Bast's observation had stirred, as, after most of the initiates had left for the school they apparently attended, Carter and Zia, the only two left behind, decided to start right away on training.

"We can try to get you registered for next semester, if you want," Carter offered as Maxwell and I followed the two of them to the training room. "You'll be what—juniors?"

"Yeah," Maxwell answered, but his mind didn't really seem to be on the conversation. I found myself blushing as I glanced at him, to my own annoyance. _*I swear, if Bast's little talk this morning does little more than make me feel awkward about being around my best friend—*_

I never did finish my own thought, as we'd arrived in the training room and Zia began speaking. "We'll take it easy for today, but I think it would be good to see what you already know so _we_ know what best to work on."

"Makes sense," Maxwell all but mumbled, looking around the room. I frowned—this wasn't like him, not even in the past few weeks. "What do you want us to start with?"

* * *

Most of the day, except for a brief break for lunch, was spent in the training room running through various exercises. Carter and Zia were reasonably patient and encouraging, even if the thought of Sobek put them on edge (they were pretty subtle, but I could still tell). By the time that the other kids got back from school, they could tell we hadn't been studying the path of the gods long. We understood the concept and its ties with sympathetic magic, but we hadn't had much practice before the attack. Neither of us had even managed anything _close_ to a combat avatar.

Finally, they let us go, and Maxwell and I found an out-of-the-way corner of the great room to rest in, observing the chaos of homework and socialization playing out before us. It was actually a familiar enough sight, reminiscent of after-school afternoons at the DC Nome, although there hadn't been nearly as many of us there.

"Remind you of home?" I asked at last, nodding at the initiates.

Maxwell didn't answer, and I looked over at him, taking in his guilt-ridden expression. I could tell what he was thinking, and I wouldn't stand for it. I lay a hand on his arm, trying to get his attention. "It wasn't your fault," I insisted. "No one could have stopped her."

"Carter and Sadie did."

"Technically, Anubis did," I pointed out. "Were you hosting a god during the attack? No? Then how can you blame yourself for not stopping it? We were outclassed, pure and simple."

Maxwell still wouldn't meet my eyes. After a long moment, he let his shoulders slump and I knew whatever he said next would be the root of his self-remonstration. "Dad _told_ me to save as many as I could. But after I grabbed you, I didn't even _try_ to go back in there after anybody else. I might've been able to save some of the others: little Jackson or Bridget or...I don't know— _some_ body."

I pictured the blonde-haired little four-year-old, or the ten-year-old girl that Maxwell had named with a pang of sadness. They'd been the two youngest members of the Nome, and I'd babysat for both of them. Jackson had pretty much idolized Maxwell, tagging along whenever he could. Bridget had been a bright, energetic girl determined to become a healer and study the path of Sekhmet.

I wanted to say something to convince him that it wasn't his fault—that going back into the battle would've meant death for him, or even both of us—but I knew him better than that. Intellectually, he knew that already, and now he was struggling with the guilt of choosing self-preservation over heroism. This wasn't an issue to be talked over and gotten past in a day, this was something we'd _both_ have to wrestle with and struggle through for however long it took to get closure.

"I miss them, too," was all I said.

* * *

Somehow, without us realizing it, time passed. For the fall semester, we had one-on-one or two-on-two coaching with Carter and Zia that quickly had us on par with the other initiates. We even managed combat avatars by Christmas, though I could only maintain mine for just under half a minute. It seemed I hadn't completely conquered my 'magical handicap', even with Bast's help.

As promised, Maxwell and I started a BAG with the others in the spring semester, which may have been how the time passed so quickly—not really much time to complain about boredom or long days when you're trying to balance school, homework, and magical training.

We'd been accepted pretty easily into the fold, and got along pretty well with our respective roommates. I won't say Sadie became my best friend, but it seemed she eventually got over whatever jealousy she'd been harboring about my connection with Bast—or at least, she got better at hiding it.

I won't say Maxwell and I completely got over our survivor's guilt either, but we at least began to figure out how to live with it—and with ourselves. At first, Bast pestered me (teasingly) about talking to Maxwell about my feelings, but as the summer neared, I think she gave up, if only because I stopped reacting in a flustered manner and simply kept repeating that there hadn't been a good moment.

In short, by the time school let out for the summer, we'd found a place at Brooklyn House, and with the relative peace over the House of Life for the first time in over a year, it seemed like we could finally catch a break.

And somewhere out there, some god chuckled at my naïveté.

* * *

 _Maxwell:_

The advent of summer break generally means an increase in freedom and a decrease in workload—or, at least, study load. That is, it does, unless you're a Brooklyn House Magician. Seriously, sometimes it felt like Carter was allergic to idleness or something. Okay, that wasn't fair—we did goof around a lot, spend time together, play basketball in the training room, etc.—but still, less than a week after school gets out and he's sending the entire Twenty-First Nome off to the First Nome in Egypt to learn how to control _cheese demons_?

Okay, so it _was_ a fun lesson, maybe even interesting, and we were learning from Amos Kane, the Chief Lector _himself_. Still, was it too much to ask for a little break?

"Maxwell—duck!"

At the shout, I instinctively hit the deck, a spray of melted Colby Jack flying through the air right where I'd been standing a moment before. Tucker, who'd shouted the warning, pulled some magic twine from his bag and threw it at the glob of evil dairy still hovering over me, looking for an opening. Too late, it noticed the middle schooler throwing some string at it. At the last moment, Tucker yelled " _Tas!"_ and the twine expanded into rope, completely trapping the cheese demon and forcing it down to the ground. "All yours, buddy," he said with a grin as I released my combat avatar.

I returned the grin as I pulled out my staff. I'd been reluctant when I first met Tucker that first night, especially when I was told we'd be roommates. I mean, the kid was twelve. But he'd grown on me over the past school year, so when Sadie paired the two of us up for the partner exercise, I knew I'd gotten a partner I could both trust and work with. "My pleasure," I replied with a mock bow, before bringing my staff around in a crushing blow.

Just before it connected, Tucker erected a shield in front of us. This, we'd been told, was the one step most people forgot, and paid for it later. Sure enough, just as my staff hit the demon, the cheese surrounding its energy exploded outwards, fortunately stopped by Tucker's shield. The wisp that was the actual demon disappeared, unable to stay anchored to the mortal plain without its shield.

Tucker released the shield, and the two of us trudged out of the small training room we'd been in back to the common room where those who had finished the exercise would be waiting. "Here's the thing I don't get," he said as we walked, "Why?"

"'Why' what?"

"Okay, I understand the idea that here's a type of demon that needs a shell of some kind of material in order to manifest on the material plain. But why would they choose _cheese_? They'd be a lot harder to beat if it was—I don't know—rock or metal, or something."

I stopped walking as I tried to understand the reasoning behind that particular choice. Shrugging, I gave up. "No one ever said demons were smart."

"Very true!" And with that, he sprinted over to one of the only other teams apparently finished—Felix and Julian—to get the play-by-play from two of his closest friends.

I glanced over at the other team, and caught Cia's eye as she talked quietly with Alyssa. I'd been hoping to pair up with Cia, as the two of us knew each other's combat style extremely well after we'd had an entire semester training with just the two of us, but Sadie refused, insisting that we teamed up too often and we should be more comfortable working with the other initiates. I guess that made sense—it wasn't just Cia and me against the world anymore, now we were a part of something bigger.

Eventually, she worked her way over to me. "You guys got it done a lot faster that time," she observed. "What changed?"

"We figured out that, if I summoned a combat avatar, I could keep the demon's attention off of Tucker long enough for him to prep the binding spell," I explained, still feeling tired from maintaining avatar form for the two minutes I had. I didn't understand how Carter had been able to hold onto it for as long as he had in the recordings—it was exhausting! "So, how about you two? Were you still on bind-and-shield duty?"

Cia nodded, her sea-green eyes lighting up as she related the previous battle. "Yeah—it was just easier, given that I could use amulets and talismans to help with those spells. But you should have seen Alyssa! She was juggling these huge rocks, and kept hitting the demon, then changing the pattern so it never got an opening to counter attack!"

I had to shake my head slightly—this new, battle-focused Cia was still a little hard to get used to. She'd never been particularly fearful, and she'd always been pretty confident, but not really what you'd pick for a combat magician. Whatever Bast had done to bring her back to her human form had changed her, and I was still trying to get used to it, even after almost a year.

* * *

Finally, it was time to go home. Upon arriving at Brooklyn, however, it was clear that the two days we'd spent in Egypt hadn't exactly been quiet ones for Carter.

Oh, he tried to pretend that everything was fine, but it was pretty clear to everyone—even Cia and me—that something big had happened. "Look," he said one night at dinner when everyone was pestering him about the baby alligator that had mysteriously joined Phillip of Macedonia in the pool, "Somehow, this little guy got an amulet around his neck that turned him into a _petsuchos_ : a 'son of Sobek'."

Half a year before, I would've internally bristled at the glance Carter sent my way when he named my patron god. Now, I was used to it.

"The mortals had dubbed it the 'Long Island Swamp Monster' so things were getting pretty serious. I went out to investigate, got into a fight with it, got the amulet off, and brought the little guy back here." Sadie glared at him, and he put up his hands defensively. "Hey, what was I supposed to do: leave it there where it could get into more magical mayhem unsupervised? I figured this was the best place for it."

His tone made it clear that he wanted that to be the end of the discussion, but I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only one who had the sinking feeling that this adventure was far from over.

 **So, yeah. Still no obvious ties into the Percy Jackson series yet. Fret not—that comes next chapter. Sorry about the big time jump, but since the story takes place during the summer, it kind of needed to happen.  
** **Anyway, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	4. 3 Other Gods

**Hello everybody; ModernDayBard here! This is the chapter you've all been waiting for: the plot kicks in and the Percy Jackson crew appears. And yes, the events Sadie narrates are the events from** _ **Staff of Serapis**_ **, and Carter's are from** _ **Son of Sobek**_ **. Hopefully these are clear even if you haven't read the stories, but if they aren't let me know and I'll try to fix them.  
** **As always, I own neither the Percy Jackson series nor the Kane Chronicles.**

* * *

 **So, yeah. I just read** _ **Crown of Ptolemy**_ **. Oops, I didn't realize Rick had finished this little series of his. I guess this makes this officially AU (though Patricia pretty much did that anyway—you'll see in a bit), picking up after _Staff of Serapis_.**

* * *

 _Maxwell:_

For all our foreboding, though, the next two weeks went by normally. Well, as normal as you can get in a mansion full of young magicians.

* * *

Upon reaching the training room, I slung my bag off my shoulders and unzipped it, reaching inside.

 _Cold!_

The freezing sensation shot up my arm roughly two seconds before my mind realized that my magic supplies were encased in ice, and all the 'dead space' in the bag was filled with non-melting snow. I withdrew my hand, glaring at the offending wintry mix. I then raised my head and scanned the room, looking for the initiate I'd deemed responsible. Upon spotting him, I yelled, letting my annoyance color my tone: _**"Felix!"**_

The kid in question froze, meeting my gaze, then glancing down at the bag in front of me, face growing pale. He walked slowly over, holding up his hands, expression and tone contrite. "I swear—I thought that Tucker had the blue bag, since his magic is blue. Wasn't yours the green one?"

"I've had the green bag since I came here," Tucker replied, walking up. "Green's my favorite color—remember?"

Felix glanced back and forth between us. He was obviously a few seconds from bolting, so I nodded slightly to Tucker, the ghost of a smile emerging at last. Tucker reached out and grabbed the younger boy's arm, grinning at the would-be prankster. "Looks like you're training with me today."

"Uh—Sure. Okay," Felix chirped, nodding frantically. He tried to walk away, but Tucker's firm grip prevented escape.

"First, unfreeze his bag."

"Oh. Heh-heh. Right." One divine word later, and I could _finally_ start to practice.

* * *

 _Cia:_

To say that we were surprised when the statue we were studying in the library (which looked like a Labrador with a tadpole tail instead of hind legs) suddenly sprang to life and charged out of the mansion like it smelled puppy chow or something would be a massive understatement. But even then, it was nothing compared to our reaction when Sadie returned from chasing it down.

* * *

"Oh, Carter!" Sadie called in a mock-sweet tone that was a pretty good indicator she was furious about something. The few of us in the Great Room blinked in surprise as she walked in, dirty, disheveled, and generally looking the worse for wear, but the look in her eyes stopped any of us from asking if she was okay. She obviously had other things on her mind.

Carter met his sister's gaze, and I actually felt sorry for the guy. Pharaoh he may have been, technically, but it wasn't like that would deter Sadie any. "Sadie—what happened?"

"Oh, nothing too interesting, compared to your fight with the Long Island Swamp Monster, I'm sure. Care to tell us again how you vanquished it single-handedly?"

Was it my imagination or did Carter actually look _trapped_ for a second? "Not now Sadie. Where's the statue?"

"Dead," she answered with a defiant smirk. "Oh—I didn't kill it. My brilliant new friend Annabeth did."

"You met another magician?" Felix asked, earning a smile from Sadie and a frown from Carter.

"No, Felix. She's not a magician, but she's not a mortal, either—not completely, anyway."

"That's enough!" In surprise, we all turned to see Carter looking more serious than I'd ever remembered him looking. "Not here, Sadie, not now."

Sadie seemed to let go of her anger at that, leaving only resolution in its place. "Yes, now. Carter. Or at least, once everyone is here. It's bigger than you know, and we're going to need allies, however strange they are."

* * *

That was all the information we got until dinner that night, the first time we could gather the whole Nome together. We all got our food, then ate silently, glancing at the Kanes expectantly. After a few moments, Carter stood, sparing a glance at the baby alligator in our pool.

"I didn't exactly lie," he began, "but I didn't tell the whole truth, either. See, I had help fighting the _petsuchos_. A boy named Percy. He's not a magician, not Egyptian. I think—I think he's Greek. He used the term 'demigod', so I think that might have been a clue as to what it was. He helped me get the amulet off, but it was pretty clear someone had put it _on_ the poor little guy to draw the attention of both groups. We figured we were a dangerous mix, or else whoever it was wouldn't have done it, so we promised not to go digging into each other's background. That's why I didn't tell you guys."

As her brother returned to his seat, I could've sworn that Sadie muttered, "Boys." Expression clearing, Sadie stood ready to put in her part of the story. "Right, so, fast forward to today. Our little puppy turned out to be part of a three-headed staff. The other two heads were being tracked by Percy's girlfriend, Annabeth; however, we were unable to stop them from fusing. Fortunately we teamed up to defeat the god the staff belonged to, a nasty chap named Serapis who is a fusion of Greek and Egyptian gods. From his incessant monologue-ing, Annabeth and I were able to put together that our least-favorite ghost Setne had summoned him in an attempt to experiment with mixing the two cultures, in hopes of becoming a god himself."

Sadie took in our reactions for a moment before continuing. "I know: frightening picture. Anyhow, Annabeth was a lot more forthcoming and trusting, and we exchanged quick backgrounds. Apparently, the Greek gods are around as well, but they don't have priests or magicians, they have half-mortal children. That's what Percy, Annabeth, and their friends are, and something tells me we're going to need their help to bring down Setne." She turned to face Carter directly. "I think it would be best to call a joint council, compare notes and all that, so that we get a head of Setne instead of reacting to his little games. Carter?"

The leader of Brooklyn House was staring at the dining table, expression unreadable. Finally he looked up, apparently resigned that we weren't about to get a break from adventure any time soon. "Fine. You can call her, Sadie. Let's set this up. And this time, we're bringing Setne to justice once and for all."

* * *

 _Maxwell:_

In the few days between the debriefing and the council, our training, which hadn't exactly been lackadaisical before, was intensified. Setne might not have been on par with Apophis, but based on what Carter and Sadie had told us, he was still a tough foe to face.

Those of us who studied any form of combat magic (Myself, Cia, Julian, and the sixteen-year-old twins Eric and Ethan) decided to put in a couple extra hours of sparring practice each evening. The other three were all path of Horus, so we had to keep switching out sparring partners to avoid getting into a rut in terms of style. Usually after Julian and the twins left, Cia and I would go a few more rounds at half-speed/half-power pretty much for old times' sake.

It was always interesting, practicing with her now. Sobek's style was all about power, endurance, and brute force; in contrast, Bast's combat was all speed, agility, and grace, so match-ups were seemingly-lopsided yet unexpectedly balanced.

One evening, it was close to midnight before we decided to call it a night. Instead of leaving right away, I sat at the edge of the room, taking a swig from my water bottle. After a pause, Cia sat next to me.

"You doing alright?" she asked after a moment. "You've been pushing yourself pretty hard lately."

I didn't answer at first, having expected something along those lines for a few days, now. "I'm not sure," I admitted at last. "Dreams."

In a house full of magicians, that one word could explain many things. Cia nodded silently, and neither of us spoke for a few minutes. Finally, she broke the silence. "Past, present, or future?"

"Neither. Nightmares."

I could feel her eyes on me, but I didn't turn to face her. After a deep breath, I began to elaborate. Who else could I tell? She was the only one who'd understand. "I-I keep seeing the others. Th-they're pretty badly hurt, and I keep waiting for them to say anything, b-but they don't. They don't accuse or f-forgive, they just st-stand there." I hated the stammer in my voice, but I couldn't help it—I was too badly shaken. "D-do _you_ ever see them in your dreams?" As soon as I asked, I regretted it. If she did, I didn't want to force her to remember them.

"No."

Before I could tell her she was lucky, she continued. "I hear them, sometimes. They're calling out, begging for help or mercy or just an end. I'm running, trying to find them, but I never do. Alyssa says I wake up screaming sometimes."

"How often?" I had to ask—she was the one person who I could talk about this with.

Cia shrugged. "Not so much anymore. Used to be one a week or so. Now it's once every couple of months. You?"

"Used to be the same, but I've had this one three nights in a row now."

"You should do what I did when it got bad for me: go to Jaz and ask for a sleeping potion," Cia offered, standing up. "When she asks why, say nightmares. She'll ask what about once, but once you say you don't want to talk about it, she lets it slide."

I stood as well, actually considering the suggestion out of desperation. "I might. How'd you know to ask?"

"Alyssa insisted after the fourth time I woke up screaming. Still took me two weeks to do it, but I'm glad I did, now. Goodnight, Maxwell."

I returned her farewell as we turned towards our respective rooms. "Goodnight, Cia."

* * *

 _Two days later, eight teens sat around the dining table on the balcony, sizing one another up. On one side, Carter and Sadie sat in the middle, flanked by Walt and Zia. Facing them were two (mostly) Greek couples: Percy and Annabeth, and Piper and Jason. The two sides had just finished exchanging respective stories, the truth laid out completely for the first time._

 _Percy sat back, breaking the ensuing silence. "You guys did all that...less than a_ _year_ _after you found out you were magicians?" He regarded the sibling across from him with new respect. "Gods of Olympus! It took me four years to work up to Kronos, five for Gaea!"_

" _We do have one thing in common though," Zia observed dryly, speaking for almost the first time that meeting._

" _What's that?" Piper asked._

" _We don't get a break."_

 _The laugh that followed her remark served to evaporate the last of the tension, leaving the group read to get down to business._

 _Sadie cracked her knuckles. "So, if Setne's looking to become a god (gag), what's the best way of stopping him?"_

 _Annabeth furrowed her brow, obviously trying to analyze the problem. "He started with the_ petsuchos _—Carter, did you find out anything about that? How that might factor in?"_

" _No," he replied, frowning. "The best hypothesis we have right now is that was an experiment to see what would happen when we met," he finished with a nod to Percy._

" _So, with that bloke Serapis, he was after something else, then," Sadie said, idly tapping her foot. "You know, a lot of what he said about Alexandria has got me wondering. There was a point where Greek and Egyptian history intertwined, and that's where he struck first."_

 _Walt seemed to pick up on his girlfriend's train of thought. "If we focus most of our attention there, we could pick up on a clue, maybe get ahead of him before he makes his first move. If we study records coming at it from both sides—Greek and Egyptian—we might find something faster than even_ he _can!"_

" _Or we could be chasing a red herring," Jason pointed out. "I mean, it seems obvious—but what if that's just it? Too obvious, I mean. That Book of Toth you mentioned—isn't that our best lead?"_

 _The four magicians exchanged a look. "Could be..." Carter began._

" _...If Toth were still around to question about it," Sadie finished. "Problem is: Setne's got the one copy and the author has retreated into the heavens. Piecing together what information about it we could won't be easy."_

" _I think we can and should do both," Zia said, turning to Carter. "Cleo and a few of our best researchers can focus on the Book of Toth (who knows, she might even manage a temporary link with the god) and the rest of us focus on Alexandrian history."_

" _And we'll find out what we can about Alexandria on our end," Annabeth offered._

 _To the Camp Half-Blood contingent's surprise, Sadie turned to her boyfriend. "Any memories from then that will save us precious research time?" To them, it sound as if she asked if he remembered anything—as in, he had been there!_

 _Walt shrugged, shame-faced. "Sorry, Sadie, but I told you when we first met: I spent most of mortal history in the Duat; I didn't really take notice of anything happening up here."_

" _Wait—what?"_

 _At Percy's blunt question, Walt glanced at the others. Okay, so they hadn't told the_ whole _story—he may have left out the part about now hosting a 5,000 year old jackal-headed god of funerals. "Long story."_

" _I don't know about you guys," Percy said, glancing at his friends, "but I suddenly have a lot of free time when avoiding research projects."_

" _Don't say we didn't warn you."_

* * *

 _Cia:_

Most of us had been training when our guests showed up, but apparently we finished before they did. Alyssa, Cleo, Tucker, Felix, Julian, Maxwell and I thundered down the stairs into the Great Room, intending to head to the kitchen for a snack, when I froze, staring out the window at the eight people on the balcony.

Well, not really the eight. Really, I was only looking at one of them—one of the four newcomers, the one siting directly across from Carter. He, like the others, wore an orange t-shirt and a leather necklace with some colorful beads on them. His hair was dark, like mine, and kind of long—probably longer than my pixie cut by at least half an inch—and all together he had a sort of laid-back, skater-boy look. But what caught my attention were his sea-green eyes—almost exactly like mine. As he noticed me and stood, looking surprised, I was certain I'd never seen him before.

So why did I feel like I should know him?

 **So, yeah. You all can probably guess where this is going, if you haven't already. Anyway, if something in this chapter was unclear, please let me know and I'll see if I can fix it.  
** **And, as always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can improve on/fix, don't hesitate to leave a review to let me know!**


	5. 4 Blood and Water

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! Don't worry, this chapter picks up right where the last one left off. (Meaning you can probably guess exactly where this is going to go. Hopefully, the actual plot itself will not be so predictable.)  
** **And, yeah. I still don't own either source series.**

 _Percy:_

As I stood, I was dimly aware of someone (Jason, I think), saying my name, asking if I was alright. I didn't answer. I couldn't.

The story we'd just heard, about how a seemingly normal guy had a god living inside him, keeping him alive? It'd been surprising, but not that hard to wrap my head around. I mean, you live in a world like mine long enough, and you just learn to accept stuff. It didn't throw me nearly as much as the sight of the girl looking at me with a stunned expression.

I couldn't put it into words, but something about her was familiar, like I should know her and it would be right if I did, but at the same time, when I first saw her, my stomach had flipped as if something was fundamentally _wrong_ or out of place. Without even thinking about it, I reached for Annabeth's hand. I'd walked through Tartarus with her, and whatever kind of minor goddess or she-demon this strange girl turned out to be, she'd be no match for the two of us together.

I felt Annabeth's hand in mine, and it started to jerk my mind back to the present, clear the fog out. The others had turned to see what I was staring at, and I could just hear the fuzzy end of Carter's statement.

"...thing wrong, Cia? Cia?"

The girl—sea something-or-other—didn't answer Carter. Jason was standing now, too, surprised, but at least he was able to talk. "Dude. She looks _just_ like you!"

Okay, that _wasn't_ true—not really, anyway. I mean: yeah, our hair and eyes were the same color, and her hair was cut short enough that it looked kinda similar to mine, but our faces were different, and her skin was paler, and—I don't know, I just didn't feel like she looked like me. That wasn't what had felt familiar and wrong at the same time.

"Percy," Annabeth whispered, and I managed to look away, to turn to my girlfriend. She was on her feet, grey eyes narrowed as she took in the newcomer. She was concentrating, sizing her up, all the while delivering her verdict. "The size of her forehead—size and shape of her eyes—of her nose—the shape of her face in general—" At last she broke off her not-exactly-helpful-rambles and said the last six words I expected to hear.

"Percy, she looks like your _mom!_ "

* * *

Yeah, so, after that, there was some confusion. Annabeth marched right up to the girl, who seemed to be about our age, and just asked her point-blank who she was and who her family was.

She hesitated, glanced behind her at a taller, curly-haired boy that had come up beside her, then finally admitted. "Patricia Williams...but... I—I'm adopted."

Based on the reaction she got, that was a surprise to just about everyone except the boy behind her. I knew what Annabeth was thinking, but I just couldn't accept it—I didn't see how it could be true. But I also knew that neither Patricia nor I could rest until we knew the truth, leaving us only one real option.

* * *

 _Cia:_

On the way into Manhattan, Percy's girlfriend Annabeth kept pointing out reasons she thought I could be related to this Greek swordsman. I wished she would just shut up—I didn't care...not really...

"...I mean, I can't _un_ -see it now! I bet you're a water magician—right?"

I froze on the sidewalk, but before I could say anything, Percy broke in. "Wait a minute—now you're saying she's not just related to my mom, she's a _Poseidon_ kid, too?"

Annabeth didn't say anything after that (thank the gods), and we walked in silence until arriving in Percy's mom's apartment. "Mom?" he called. "It's me...I've got a weird question for you..."

"Just a minute, Percy! I'll be right there!"

The sense that something was wrong—that cold feeling in the pit of my stomach that'd been there since I first saw Percy—intensified at his mom's voice. But _why_?

Then Sally Jackson walked in, and one part of my mind couldn't deny the resemblance that Annabeth had noted. But most of my attention was on the churning sensation that I didn't understand, and on her terrified—no, _agonized_ —expression the second she saw me, before she ran out of the room with Percy in confused pursuit.

I sank onto the couch beside Annabeth, thoroughly confused and, inexplicably terrified.

 _But_ _why_ _?_

* * *

A few minutes later, Percy and Sally Jackson returned. Percy sat on the couch beside Annabeth, still looking confused. Apparently his mom hadn't explained her reaction to him, yet, but given the determined expression on her now tear-streaked face, and the picture and small object in her hand, she seemed about to.

"What's your name, sweetie?" she asked me in a quiet voice.

"P-Patricia," I answered, not entirely sure why I was stammering.

"Middle name Atalanta?"

I stared, stunned. "H-how did—I never tell people..."

Sally smiled sadly down at the picture in her hands, and the curious part of my mind had me straining unsuccessfully to see what it was of. "He kept his promise then...My grandmother's first name. He picked the middle name of course..."

Percy blinked, apparently not used to his mom rambling like that. "Mom? Who—what?"

"I'm sorry, Percy...Patricia," Sally Jackson said, finally turning the picture around. It was taken in a hospital and showed two newborn infants lying side-by-side, turned to face each other. One was wrapped in a blue blanket, the other pink. Percy stared as if he'd never seen that picture before.

"Mom, who is—you said you didn't have any pictures from the hospital!" Then Percy seemed to realize the implications of the two infants, quickly looking between the picture and me. "Someone explain this, please!"

Sally sighed heavily, revealing the other object in her hand: an infant's hospital wristband, with _my_ name on it. "Percy, before I explain, just know that I was trying to do what was best—for _both_ of you. It felt so _right_ to be a mother, to finally have a family again, but Poseidon—your father—well, the two of you growing up in the same home would've attracted more monsters, sooner. I wouldn't have been able to keep you safe. H-He said it was the only way..."

Suddenly, this part of the story made sense. In a way, it was like the reason Carte and Sadie had been split up. "So you had to give one of us up so that we didn't trigger each other's powers too early or something?"

I guess I must've sounded bitter, because Sally turned to me looking... desperate. It was weird having an adult stare at me like they were begging for forgiveness. "Patricia, I wanted to keep _both_ of you. I argued with Poseidon for two hours straight, insisting that I could protect both of you."

"How'd he win, then?" I asked, crossing my arms, the unasked question hammering my skull, trying to get out: _And why did you choose to give me up instead of Percy? Did you flip a coin or something?_

"H-he told me about...about the Great Prophecy," Sally admitted, earning a stunned stare from her son.

"You _knew_? The whole time?" All at once, questions came pouring out from the boy beside me, who I just couldn't see as my brother. "Wait, if he was there, how come you always said he never saw me as a kid? Why did you have to keep all this a secret? And—And if we're twins, then couldn't the prophecy have been about her just as easily?"

Sally shook her head, answering the questions in reverse order. "You're almost an hour older, Percy; you still would've been the first child of the 'Big Three' to turn 16, if only by a matter of minutes. And I never told you because I was afraid you'd insist on looking for her, which would put you in the same danger we were trying to avoid. Anyway, I thought she'd be at Camp Half-Blood shortly after you arrived. I—I kept waiting for you to write home with stories of another Poseidon child, a-a sister. As for not telling you about your father being there, that story would've led to too many secrets coming out at the wrong time—remember, for the longest time you didn't know your father was a god, Percy."

I'd heard enough. All the questions I'd had, well, now I had the answers. I stood, but couldn't resist summarizing what I'd learn: "So, to clarify, Percy and I are twins, but you gave me up to protect him because he's the child of some prophecy or other. You just waited for him to find out on his own, at some stupid camp, that you'd been lying to him his whole life."

"It's not like that," Sally protested, "I was keeping _you_ safe as well! Or I thought I was—when you never showed up at camp, I-I thought you'd been killed by monsters before you got there! I gave up. I'm sorry, no mother ever should give up on—"

I moved away from her attempt at a hug. I didn't hate her, but I didn't want anything from her, either. When she said 'mother' in that voice, all I could think about was my mom—my _real_ mom—in that final battle, trading her life for mine, trying to keep me safe. "Let yourself off the hook—you're not my mother. Mothers protect their kids, sacrifice for them. You did that for _him_ ," I admitted with a nod in Percy's direction, "but the woman who loved, protected, and raised me—the woman who _died_ trying to save me— _she's_ my mother. I'm Patricia  Williams, and I always will be."

With that, I walked out of her apartment with no intent of ever going—or even looking—back.

* * *

 _Maxwell:_

It took a few days, but word eventually got around about Cia's connection with the Greeks. Cia spent most days avoiding everyone and everything, but I knew her well enough to know that she was really hiding from one person: Percy Jackson. He'd come to Brooklyn from time to time, accompanying whatever researchers from the Greek side wanted to compare notes with our information. I'd catch him looking around and whatever magicians walked by, and I knew he was looking for her—his sister.

Let me tell you: that was a weird idea to get my head around—Cia having a twin brother—but having seen them together that day, I could attest to it being at least somewhat believable.

Finally, about a week later, I figured Cia needed a break from being a hermit. I knew just where to find her, too: a small room on the top floor we'd discovered shortly after arriving. It was clearly never in use, and Cia had commandeered it as a sort of amulet-workshop. Really, though, it was her place to escape to when she wanted to remember life before Jacobi's attack.

I entered without knocking and crossed immediately to her, sitting beside her on the workbench, looking at the half-finished amulet she wasn't even trying to work on. I didn't say anything at first; I just sat there, trying to get a sense of where she was at emotionally. To my surprise, she spoke first.

"No, I'm not planning on avoiding him forever, just until I figure some stuff out...and until he forgives me for making his mom cry." When I said nothing, she turned her sea-green eyes, flashing with defiance, on me. " _His_ mom, not mine."

"Cia," I said at last, "you don't have anything to prove—not to me, not to anyone."

"I'm _not_ trying to prove anything," she protested, a slight waver in her voice. "I-I guess I'm just trying to _understand_ —to come to terms with all of this. I don't want to face Percy right now because—because—"

She flattered, searching for the right words, and instinctively I reached out, putting a hand on her shoulder. Finally she blurted out: "—because I don't know how to be a sister!"

"Well, if it's any consolation, I think he's trying to adjust to being a brother," I offered. "And I may not be an expert, but I think being a sibling is like any other relationship: it doesn't get any stronger a bond or easier a concept if you don't spend any time together."

She sighed heavily, resting her forehead on the table in front of her. "But I'm scared!"

"I don't blame you for that, and frankly, if I'm any judge of people, so is Percy. It's new ground for both of you."

"But why did it have to be _Poseidon?_ "

With that outburst, I suddenly remembered an incident from when Cia was three. She'd fallen into one of the deep pools of water in the headquarters of our Nome, and started panicking. Her father had jumped in and pulled her out just before she'd drowned, and I could still picture the abject terror in her eyes. It was just then that I realized the cruel joke the universe had played on my best friend:

Patricia Williams, daughter of Poseidon, god of the sea, was afraid of _water_.

 **So, yeah. Cruel joke? Maybe. But not from the universe, just me. Anyway: Patricia is Percy's sister, but she can't even swim. And before anyone tries to call me out on that, may I remind you that one Thalia Grace, daughter of Zeus, is afraid of heights so can't fly like Jason can?  
** **If you saw anything you liked, or something you think I should fix/can improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave me a review and let me know!**


	6. 5 Friends, Romans, Countrymen

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! I'm sorry for the clichéd and/or predictable nature of the last chapter; hopefully this time will be more interesting and surprising!  
** **Of course, I don't own Percy Jackson or the Kane Chronicles.**

 _It started off as an ordinary enough day in New Rome. The newest praetor, Frank Zhang, had just finished checking in on the construction of some of the new temples Jason had planned. The son of Jupiter had left a few weeks before to check in on the changes to Camp Half-Blood, but he'd left instructions in the capable hands of the Roman builders, and Frank took time every few days to be sure that his friend's vision was panning out as accurately as possible._

 _Anyhow, that being done, he decided to take a break for lunch and bring a pastry and some hot cocoa to his girlfriend, Hazel Levesque, who had likely gotten so caught up in her assigned duties that she'd forgotten to eat...again. Frank supposed he couldn't blame her; after being so long denied a chance to work with her favorite animals, the appointment to the position of captain of the cavalry was a dream role for Pluto's daughter._

 _Not that Camp Jupiter's new cavalry was all that impressive in terms of numbers—less than half a dozen officers and their mounts, not counting Reyna and her new pegasus friend, Guido. Still, what they lacked in numbers, they made up in sensation: instead of plain horses, or the unicorns who would accept no riders, the Roman cavalry was comprised of a handful of pegasi who'd followed Guido when he'd come, flocking to the side of the rare mortal designated 'friend of horses' by the immortal lord—the original Pegasus himself. Reyna and Hazel led the unit together, but as Reyna was already praetor, she left the official title to the one member of their band whose mount lacked wings._

 _Not that Arion lagged behind the others. No, the foul-mouthed roan stallion who could run faster than the speed of sound held his own among his non-earthbound companions, well able to keep Hazel, the one person who could ride him, in her place at the head, grounded though he was._

 _Sure enough, Frank's assumption had proved accurate, and Hazel's golden eyes lit up with joy at the sight of him—and the sweet-smelling treat he brought her. The two took a rare, welcome moment to relax outside in the sun, sitting against the side of barn and enjoying quiet conversation as they ate. Unfortunately, the sweet respite didn't last._

 _All too soon, warning trumpets blasted from the ramparts of Camp Jupiter. The two were on their feet in a moment, turning to see ten grotesque, twisted forms that seemed a combination of weapons or tools and animals lurching towards the now-assembling legion. Two others turned and came towards the stable, and Frank and Hazel moved to intercept them, as the three legionnaires on stable-cleaning duty that day were new probatios, barely into their second week. Hazel whistled for Arion, pulled out her_ spatha _, then froze, frowning._

" _These things," she muttered as Frank stood beside her, nocking an arrow to his bow, "they've got an aura of magic around them—I can sense it. But it's not Hecate's magic; it-it's I don't know: it's just_ _wrong_ _."_

* * *

 _The twelve monsters were soon defeated, but not before several centurions noticed that they'd screamed out curses in Egyptian as they died._

 _Frank, Hazel, and Reyna conferred at the desk of the praetors that evening. Reyna turned to Hazel. "Frank tells me you identified those monstrosities as magical, and several_ lares _have made veiled comments about 'those Egyptian distortions'. Can you make anything of them?"_

" _I-I don't know," Hazel admitted, "All I can tell you is that they were_ _wrong_ _; they shouldn't have been here. Not like monsters, you understand—I don't know if I can express it right—but they_ _weren't_ _Roman. Maybe they_ _are_ _Egyptian, but I don't know why or how it could be."_

" _Do you think this was an isolated incident?" Frank asked, almost rhetorically. "I mean, they weren't that hard to beat; honestly, it felt like someone or something was testing our defenses. Will they come back harder? Have they already struck elsewhere?"_

 _Reyna frowned at him. "You're thinking of Camp Half-Blood, aren't you? Any particular reason you think they'd have encountered this already...besides worry for your friends?" her tone was not accusatory—she had Greek friends as well—but rather, curious, as the look on Frank's face said this was offered from rational though and not emotional concern._

 _Frank glanced at Hazel, who nodded for him to continue. She'd heard it as well, but since the creature had spoken to Frank, this was his story to tell. "One of the two we fought, he said 'the Sea of Chaos will dissolve you slowly, friend of Percy'."_

" _Ah," Reyna said, nodding, trying not to show her surprise. "In that case, I believe it is a reasonable assumption that this was not an isolated incident, nor the strategist's first attack." She paused for amount, thinking of the best way to contact their East-Coast allies. "Hazel, you said that you saw Percy send an Iris-Message during the Alaska mission? Do you think you remember how to do it? It seems to be the most reliable method of contacting Camp Half-Blood."_

 _Hazel and Frank exchanged a glance, remembering their encounter with the rainbow goddess in that..._ _interesting_ _store. "Yes, praetor." It wasn't something she was likely to forget. "I even know a shortcut. I just need to make a rainbow, and I can contact them."_

 _That was why the three of them were now standing just outside the baths, Frank aiming a flashlight into the mist as it floated past, creating a surprisingly stable rainbow. Taking a deep breath, Hazel stepped forward and tossed a silver denarii into the mist, feeling a bit embarrassed as she remembered the cloud nymph's instructions and words: "Uh, Fleecy, do me a solid: show me Percy Jackson at Camp Half-Blood..."_

* * *

 _Maxwell:_

When our new allies told us the Romans had been attacked by our least-favorite ghost, and Carter agreed that they should be brought into the loop as well, the atmosphere at Brooklyn House subtly changed. I don't think an outsider would have noticed, but the reason wasn't hard to figure out, especially given the time period we were currently researching.

The Greeks were excited by the Alexandrian period—one of the hallmarks of the expanding Greek empire—but for us, it was the beginning of the end of Egypt. We'd managed to get over ourselves and work with Camp Half-Blood, but the thought of _Romans_ coming in was a hard one to swallow.

I'm not too proud to admit: I was one of the worst, especially thanks to Sobek's belligerent influence (retreated though he was, there were lingering effects of following his path). The crocodile god hated to lose, and was likely to attack anyone he perceived as an enemy. I made up my mind to steer well clear of the Roman delegation so as not to jeopardize the tenuous alliance.

Surprisingly, the only one struggling more than me was Sadie, who kept grumbling incoherently about 'Romans', 'ghosts', 'oasis', 'mummies', and someone named 'Mad Claud'. Walt was the only one who seemed able to understand her, and would shrug at her bitter tirade, offering diplomatically, "Well, Claud and the others had been dead for so long, their minds had been warped. I'm sure currently living Romans won't be nearly as bad."

Yeah, I didn't understand it, either.

* * *

For all my determination, I must admit my curiosity got the better of me, so on the day the Romans were going to arrive for an emergency council, I found myself casually lounging on one of the couches of the Great Room, supposedly relaxing, but really just hoping to see them arrive. I wasn't alone, either—by my estimation about half the Nome was scattered about. I was on one couch, paying half-attention to Tucker, Felix, and Julian as they discussed the last practice session.

On the other side of the room, I noticed Cia talking with Jaz and Alyssa. I was pleasantly surprised to see her out of her little hiding-hole, and my best guess pegged her roommate, Alyssa, as the one who'd finally managed to drag her out. Quite the feat—considering her brother was due to arrive at any moment.

The sound of the door opening proved too much for her in this skittish state, however, and she bolted to the next floor before the arrival of our six visitors: Percy, Annabeth, their friend Grover, and the three Romans.

Most of the magicians in the room quickly looked down, shooting guilty but curious glances at the new arrivals, but Sobek's belligerent nature led me to just sit back and make no pretense of doing anything but staring.

The Roman in the lead—a girl about my age with dark hair and a cloak (which looked pretty weird with her purple t-shirt and jeans)—met my eyes, and I was taken aback by her piercing, assessing gaze. I got the impression she was sizing me up, trying to determine if I was a dangerous threat or a worthy ally. Whatever she saw she must've liked, because she gave a quick, nearly imperceptible nod, a look of respect flitting across her face for a moment.

I responded in kind, the crocodile god's instincts having recognized a fellow warrior. Sobek only respected strength, but it was clear that this Roman had strength to spare. Maybe this alliance wouldn't be so bad, after all.

* * *

 _Percy:_

Once everyone had been brought up to speed (which was mostly filling in the delegation from Camp Jupiter, as we really hadn't found anything useful since the start of the alliance), Reyna cut right to the chase, leaning forward.

"We can research the times when Roman and Egyptian history mingled, but is that our only plan of action at the moment? Is there nothing we can do to strike first or prepare?"

The British girl—Sadie—snorted. She tended to do that a lot. "Strike where? Prepare for what? Believe me, I'd _love_ to get a good crack at Setne, but he's gone into hiding, using guerrilla tactics."

"But his plan does have one weakness," Annabeth observed, and everyone turned to listen to her. Reyna, Frank, Hazel, Grover and I had come to respect Annabeth over our quests together, and even the magicians had quickly learned she was a strategist to be reckoned with. "The one thing he's done is attack _us_ —focus his attention on these three groups. He's doing more than testing resistance, I think he's testing power or energy; whatever he wants to do, he needs us. He also expects us to be at each other's throats. We can do more than simply research in while isolated our own safe bases."

Carter and Reyna frowned in thought, apparently having caught Annabeth's drift. I already knew what she was driving for—we'd been talking about it for about a week now. "He expects us to stick with our established strengths and techniques—but what if we change it up? Learn to fight in each other's style—present a more balanced front?"

"A training exchange?" Reyna asked, face impassively neutral. I still couldn't figure out how to tell what she was thinking when she looked like that—which I supposed helped her in senate meetings. "Each group sends delegates to the two others to learn and teach what they can?"

"Exactly!" Annabeth answered firmly. The delegates from the two demigod camps were nodding thoughtfully. It wouldn't be too hard for us—honestly, a plan something like this had been in the works since we'd come together to defeat Gaea. The magicians, on the other hand, seemed much more hesitant.

Carter and Sadie glanced at each other, then back at us before Sadie answered in that British accent of hers (which had surprised me when I first heard it—but then, everything about her had been a bit of a shock), "Not quite sure what we have to offer—not like you lot can learn magic."

Walt put a hand over hers, and he at least, seemed to be on the same page as us. "We do have combat magicians. Take away the avatar form and you're left with a unique combat approach—we can teach that at least. Besides, from you told us, magic and demigods produce interesting things when they mix." At that, he nodded to Annabeth, probably referencing how she'd turned an ivory boomerang into a bronze dagger by accident. Yeah. She's awesome like that. "We could at least look into it; see if it provides an advantage we can capitalize on."

* * *

After that, it was pretty much agreed that Annabeth had come up with a brilliant plan—no surprise there. All that was left was fleshing out the details of which delegates from which camp would go where, and who would stay behind in charge of 'playing host' (Sadie's term for the job). It was tedious, but not overly difficult work (until we got into the question of whether Jason was a representative of Camp Half-blood or New Rome—things got a little tense, then). Eventually it was worked out that Annabeth and I would be the Greek representatives in Brooklyn House, while Piper and Jason would go to New Rome, while Will Solace and Clarisse would 'play host'.

"Wait—Clarisse?" I protested.

Annabeth punched me lightly in the arm. "She's matured lately, if you'd care to notice. Besides, she'll mostly be in charge of the combat training, Will's the diplomat."

For the Romans, Michael what's-his-name (from the first cohort) would be coming with Hazel to Camp Half-Blood while Reyna and Bobby came to Brooklyn House, leaving Frank and Dakota in charge at Camp Jupiter. And Sadie and Walt volunteered to be the Egyptian representatives to New Rome while it was agreed that Carter and Cleo would stay and train the four delegates. But when it came time to decide which of them would come to Camp Half-Blood...well, that's when things got a little more difficult.

Carter turned to me. "Zia has already expressed interest in going to Camp Half-Blood as one of the representatives."

The guy didn't look exactly happy with the idea of his girlfriend being one of the 'away' teams (after hearing his story, I couldn't blame him), and the thought of turning a flame-based magician loose in a dryad-heavy forest was worrying. On the other hand, she wouldn't be _too_ far, and Will, at least, wouldn't let her get herself into trouble with the nature spirits. "No problem. Who for the second?"

"Well frankly," Sadie began in her usual, blunt way, "Carter and I think Cia Williams should be the other."

I felt a lot of eyes on me at that point, and tried to ignore them. "I'm not saying, 'no'—" I began slowly, aware that the Romans hadn't been filled in on any details pertaining to my family connections and were now thoroughly confused. "—but I thought she was one of the newest magicians here, and the one that struggled the most; and didn't we want this to be an exchange of leaders so they could come back and teach what they'd learned? Besides, I volunteered to come here so that I could get a chance to train her myself..."

Reyna's eyes narrowed, but she didn't say anything as Walt countered my points. "She _is_ inexperienced, but we believe most of her difficulty springs from the fact that she's a Greek demigod trying to work magic. It's best that she get at least a little bit of a foundation in understanding her godly side before she continues with magic—which she fully intends to keep studying—and Long Island isn't too far, you could swing by on the weekends to train her."

"Can I talk to her about it at least?" I asked, feeling completely uncertain as to how to approach the situation, but felt that if anything called for a sibling-to-sibling talk, this did.

"You could try," Sadie muttered, "but I doubt she'll stay in the room long enough. Giver her time, she'll come around."

When I remembered the Kane kids' story, I decided to defer to their expertise.

* * *

 _Cia:_

Alyssa had dragged me away from the second floor before the end of the council back to the living room, just as they apparently let out. Instead of leaving as I'd hoped/expected, the six newcomers apparently decided to stick around and—horror of horrors—socialize. With one pointed look at Alyssa daring her to chase after me again, I raced back up the stairs and was about to go further, when a sight over the balcony stopped me. A girl—one of the Romans, I think—walked up to Maxwell and started talking to him.

There was nothing wrong with that; I mean, Maxwell can talk to whoever he wants to, and why should I care if my best friend is talking to someone—even another girl? Still, I couldn't deny a flash of...Alright, I'll say it: jealousy as the two of them kept talking...and talking...and at the way his face lit up as the conversation went on.

I turned abruptly, not wanting to see any more, but found myself face-to-face with Carter. "There you are, Cia!" he exclaimed, before proceeding to tell me what the emergency council had decided, and that I was being shipped off to Camp Half-Blood for some Greek training.

"Carter, _please_ don't send me there—I don't belong there; not really!" I knew I was begging but I didn't care—I didn't want to have anything to do with that place, and the part of me it represented. I was Egyptian; I had _chosen_ to be Egyptian.

Carter put a hand on my shoulder, and his face was more serious than he generally showed on a normal day—and angrier. "Patricia Williams, can the ego. This isn't about _you._ We have a massive threat facing us now, is it too much to ask you to do your part?"

I wanted to argue, to protest, and above all to get _out_ of my assignment, but faced with his appeal, any counterpoint I raised would've sounded selfish. I hung my head, unable to fight the inevitable, but refusing to go without a noted protest. "I don't know if I can face him."

"If it's any consolation, he's coming here to train; you're more likely to be able to avoid him by _leaving_ than by _staying_."

I blinked silently for a moment, but mustered enough of my sense of humor to deadpan: "I'll start packing."

* * *

 _Maxwell:_

After the council, the Roman girl, Reyna, came over to me. "Combat magician?" she asked in a tone that said she knew the answer.

"Yep—Path of Sobek." I knew it meant nothing to her, but it was actually nice to have any other reaction besides fear and suspicion to that announcement.

"Do all combat magicians use the same weapons, or does each path specialize—or even each magician?"

I shrugged. "Technically, each magician _could,_ but each of the combat-based paths favors a fighting style that lends itself towards one weapon or another," I explained. "Carter, Julian, and the twins are all Path of Horus, so they use the curved _khopesh_ sword; My friend Cia is Path of Bast, so she uses two knives; and I use an iron staff. It makes sparring interesting...and difficult sometimes..." I trailed off, realizing I was probably talking to her about something she'd only expressed interest in to be polite. To my surprise, she nodded knowingly.

"I'd imagine—that's one of the reasons that the legionnaires all have the same, standard equipment aside from a few exceptions. On the other hand, more fighting styles forces you to increase your flexibility," she said, and I could tell from the look in her eyes that she way weighing strategic advantages and disadvantages.

Before long, we launched into a discussion of the strengths and weaknesses of training styles, weapons type, magic and non-magic based combat, and I was enjoying being able to talk with a girl about such topics who could intelligently contribute. I mean, Cia could, but we usually talked about other stuff. It was a nice change.

 _*Maybe this alliance won't be so bad after all.*_

 **So, yeah. Trouble ahead for Cia on multiple fronts. I won't dwell too much on relationship drama, but I dislike smooth sailing in stories as a rule, plus I love Reyna and wanted to have an excuse to give her more stage-time, as it were.  
** **Anyway, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I should fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review to let me know!**


	7. 6 All Greek to Me

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! In case it hasn't been clear in previous chapters, if an entire** **scene** **is in italics, there is no specific narrator/perspective, but it's in 3** **rd** **-person. This will be important to keep the number of narrators down (initially Percy was not going to be a narrator) and maintain my sanity in the coming chapters.  
** **And, of course, I don't own Percy Jackson or the Kane Chronicles.**

 _Hazel wasn't too eager to leave the cavalry position she'd achieved after so long a wait, but she_ _was_ _eager to see her brother again, so she accepted the assignment to Camp Half-Blood in stride. She wasn't sure how Michael would react, given that he likely wouldn't have good memories of the Greek camp, but he seemed willing enough to start over with their allies. All in all, the Roman contingent bound for Long Island foresaw few problems._

 _As for the welcoming committee, it was all Will could do to keep Clarisse from bringing her weapon when they went to greet their allies._

" _You may be the combat instructor, but how about we let them settle into their bunks before starting training? This_ _is_ _supposed to be a diplomatic exchange."_

 _Clarisse grumbled, but as Nico (who was waiting to see Hazel again) noted, impressed, she acquiesced to Will, agreeing to leave the spear behind—if only just for the first day._

* * *

 _Hazel smiled when she saw the third addition to the welcome party, especially as her brother looked happier and more comfortable than he'd been in a long time. Nico actually returned her smile, though it wavered when he recognized the centurion accompanying her._

 _Hazel figured something must've happened in the battle, based on how tense Will, Nico, and Michael seemed around each other, but at least the three of them seemed committed to preserving diplomatic relationships and moving past the battle's legacy. Clarisse was a little harder to get a read on, but as she was (sort of) related to Frank, Hazel was determined to make a peacekeeping effort._

" _The Egyptians are coming in early tomorrow, so we'll start training after they settle in," Clarisse snapped (not unkindly). "For now, we'll show you to your cabins, and you can settle in and follow them around."_

 _With that, they headed for camp proper. Will turned to Mike with an apologetic expression. "Um, so...as a son of Venus, you've been assigned to the Aphrodite cabin. Piper's made a lot of changes since she became head counselor, but there wasn't much she could do about the décor, so...well, brace yourself."_

" _Did you change the Hades cabin yet?" Hazel whispered to her brother._

" _Started to," he replied, "but I haven't made too much progress. Will asked me to help him figure out where everyone should go. Apparently the combat magician they're sending should be sent to the Poseidon cabin—though no one's saying why—and we finally decided to put the fire mage in the Hephaestus cabin, so we've been getting the different bunks ready."_

" _I could be wrong," Hazel muttered, "but based on things I've overheard, the girl in the Poseidon cabin either has a connection to Percy or his father—or both."_

" _Really?" Nico replied, a look of mild surprise flitting across his features. "Wonder if she'll be much like him..."_

 _Hazel shrugged. "Guess we'll find out soon."_

" _Yeah; guess we will," her brother agreed._

 _With a little more small talk, the five figures made their way back to the camp, each aware of the building sense they were on the cusp of something big that was just beginning._

* * *

 _Cia:_

The morning I was supposed to leave for Long Island, Bast's insistence that I talk to Maxwell about how I felt finally got too much for me. Of course, my decision to acquiesce might've had as much to do with the way he'd talked to the Roman girl the other day. All of a sudden, I felt that I had to make my move before someone else who didn't know or care about Maxwell the way I did tried to worm they way into his heart while I was gone—

 _Did I really just think that? Gods of Egypt—what have I turned into?_

Well, new dramatic flair aside, the time had come to muster my courage and admit my feelings...

...At least, that was the intention—I may have lost my nerves at the final moment.

As I stood beside my bags in the Great Room, waiting for Zia to come down so we could leave, I watched Maxwell laughing and joking with the other kids, noticing how great he was with the younger ones. Eventually he worked his way over and stood in front of me, shifting awkwardly, a little.

He looked really handsome, with the sun catching his dark-brown hair and giving him slight golden highlights, and he grown event taller since we came, finally filling out his form. He smiled genuinely, though there seemed to be some uncertainty behind it.

"So, you're uh, heading out, huh?"

Not his most articulate of offerings, but it made me realize that we'd grown up with the knowledge that the other was (at most) living down the street from us. Maybe this separation would be harder than I thought, or maybe we needed it to evaluate what we really felt without the other being _right there_.

"Yep. Soon as Zia's ready—"

"I'm here," the other girl called, walking up with a single duffle of clothes and her magic bag.

I picked up my matching load, and started to follow, offering a weak, "Goodbye" over my shoulder.

"Cia—"

I turned back to Maxwell, curious and surprised at his abrupt tone. "Yeah?"

Whatever he meant to say, he obviously changed his mind, as his expression suddenly lightened to a casual grin as he shrugged. "Just take care—alright?"

"Yeah, sure," I replied with a nod.

With that vague and noncommittal farewell, we parted.

* * *

 _Before Patricia and Zia made it halfway across the yard, they spotted two figures approaching—a blonde-haired young woman and a dark-haired young man. Percy and Annabeth had arrived, and the two departing magicians heard Carter and Cleo come out behind them to greet the Grecian warriors._

 _The twins stood face-to-face for the first time since that fateful day in Sally Jackson's apartment. Neither was particularly comfortable under the other's gaze, but Percy mustered his courage to speak. "Look, I'm not use to the idea of having a sister, but I'm not opposed to it. I—uh—I'd like the chance to get to know you better. Would—uh—would you mind if I came by on weekends to help with your training and just—I don't know—hang out?"_

 _Cia was torn at the gesture of peace, knowing that Percy had not been at fault for their parents' decision, and that ending up adopted by the Williams' had been probably the best thing that could've happened to her. Still, facing him meant facing the fact that she hadn't been good enough for Poseidon, and that Sally hadn't been willing to fight to keep her, having chosen Percy instead._

" _I—I don't know," she admitted at last, feeling bad as she saw her brother deflate. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. I kind of like being an only kid." She hesitated, noting the disappointed expression on Percy's face, and made a small concession. "I guess I will need the training help though...It can be like the other cabins, where you just have one parent in common." She'd overheard a description of Camp Half-Blood, and felt that would be close enough for her._

 _Percy still wasn't completely pleased, but he realized that he would get no further with his sister at that point. Maybe someday they'd actually get used to being full siblings, but for now, the arrangement would have to do. "Alright," he conceded, watching as the two girls walked past them and got into Argus' van, which had dropped him and Annabeth off and would take Patricia and Zia to Camp Half-Blood. Annabeth took his hand, silently acknowledging she understood this was a complicated situation for him._

 _Before she could say anything, Carter and Cleo came up to the couple, trying to pretend that they hadn't overheard the previous exchange. "We'll show you to the rooms you'll be staying in," Carter began, a look of sympathy flashing across his face for a second, "Then you can chose whether you want to help Cleo with the research or join in on the next combat practice session. We kind of let people drive their own training here, within certain bounds."_

 _Annabeth nodded, still holding Percy's hand. "Understood. Maybe tonight we can work out a schedule together?"_

 _With that, the four moved back towards Brooklyn House, the other three discussing logistics and merits of different training arrangements. Percy was only half-listening, most of his attention focused on trying to figure out how—if ever—he was going to get on good terms with Cia._

* * *

 _Cia:_

I followed Clarisse to the Poseidon cabin after our arrival at Camp Half-Blood while Will led Zia to the Hephaestus cabin. The daughter of Ares had seemed closed-off when I was first introduced to her, but when I found out that she was the combat trainer, I started asking questions about fighting styles and weapons types, and she seemed to perk up when she realized I was a combat specialist eager to learn what she had to teach.

By the time we reached the cabin I'd be staying in for at least a few weeks, we seemed to be, if not friends, then at least heading in that direction. From some off-handed comments Clarisse made, it was clear that she and Percy had not hit it off in a similar fashion, despite the fact that he shared our combat skill.

The talk had lightened my mood after the encounter with my brother, but entering the Poseidon cabin brought me down again. Clarisse picked up on the shift, turning to me as I took in the sea-shack-like design, the metal hippocampi decorations, the simple bunks and the overall calm atmosphere. "So, are you really his sister like they say?"

"Yeah," I answered, wandering over to the only bunk that appeared to be regularly occupied. Percy had taken most of his stuff to Brooklyn with him, but he left behind a shield, minotaur horn, and several pictures of him with Annabeth and other people that must've been his friends from here at camp. I blinked at one, then squinted. "Is—Is that a cyclops?"

"Yep—Tyson. He's a son of Poseidon, too, and kind of decided that Percy was his brother. He mostly lives in Poseidon's palace now, but he visits often—you'll probably meet him soon enough. He's a good blacksmith and warrior, I guess."

Great—I had another brother. _As if one isn't enough to deal with._

Clarisse must've sensed I was uncomfortable, but she didn't comment on it. "Get settled in, when the conch horn blows, it's dinner time, just come on up to the pavilion. We'll start training in the morning, then after lunch, we can try that one-on-one sparing match you were talking about."

She was trying to be nice, help me feel at home. I nodded my thanks, and she left, giving me my space. I sank onto a bunk in an out of the way corner that would be easy to curtain off when Percy would come back. I dropped my two bags, too conflicted to start unpacking at the moment. I stared across the cabin at my brother's bunk, still trying to wrap my head around being in his world.

 _I may be in this place, and learn about it; but I'll never truly belong here. This is_ _not_ _who I am._ But the blood of Poseidon  did run in my veins, and I couldn't deny a stirring, an excitement, as soon as I had walked into the cabin. Like it or not, it had felt in part like coming home.

 _Because life as an Egyptian magician just wasn't complicated enough—the universe had to throw me this curveball._ Really, it was almost comforting to know there really were mythological gods out here—I could guess that at least one of them was to blame for the disasters that would befall me.

 **So, yeah. In other versions of this story living in my head (yes, there are several) the twins are very close, but with this current set up, I figured it would take a while to move past all the baggage that they** _ **both**_ **have to deal with.  
** **Anyway, if you saw something you like, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review to let me know!**


	8. 7 Face Your Fears

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! I don't really have too much to say this time; I just hope you all enjoy this chapter. Sort-of funny side-note: the training scene with Clarisse is the first one I came up with, and the one that inspired this version of Cia's story.  
** **Of course, I don't own Percy Jackson or the Kane Chronicles, simply my oc's. Even the plot idea is borrowed from the seeds Riordan has already sown.**

 _Cia:_

Eventually I got up and started unpacking, deciding to treat it like the summer training camp that we used to have at the DC Nome: any way to keep from considering it home. Since I didn't bring much—just my magic supplies, some toiletries and a few changes of clothing—that didn't take long, and as it was only partway through the afternoon, I figured I had a reasonable break before dinner.

 _Might as well have a look around, just to get my bearings._

Whenever my parents had taken me into the city for fun, Dad would always call it 'playing tourist'—going to all the museums and monuments, essentially giving himself permission to gawk. However, when I went on my own, I preferred 'playing local': navigating via unusual signs and buildings rather than metro maps, just wandering to see what I'd find and how well I could manage without getting lost.

I decided a similar approach would work for this camp, and I just started walking. I didn't have a destination; I just wanted to see what I could. And, boy—was there a lot to see! Each cabin's design was unique, and the twenty-some-odd buildings were scattered around in a rough 'omega' shape. As much as I was determined not to like it here, I had to admit, I was impressed.

The few campers I encountered were nice enough, and apparently Percy hadn't spread our familial relationship very far, so most assumed (correctly) that I was one of the Egyptian delegates, and most of those gave me a very warm welcome. In spite of myself, I could understand why my brother considered this his home.

 _Get a hold of yourself Cia. It's just a training camp...Just a unique, somewhat crazy training camp with some of the nicest people you've met...Gah! Why does this have to be so hard?_

* * *

 _Eventually the conch horn sounded for dinner, and Cia turned around, following the general movement of the other campers towards the pavilion on the hill. As she reached the top and looked at all the tables, temporarily at a loss, Clarisse brushed by, whispering so that no one else could hear: "Table to your left is the Poseidon table, sit at it."_

 _The magician followed the directive, grateful that the daughter of Ares understood being unwilling to look like a fool. Glancing over, she saw Zia sitting with a group of campers she assumed were the Hephaestus kids. She seemed well at ease enough, asking them questions about forging regular weapons and magical items—she was pretty interested in how the Greeks created and manipulated magic, and the camp blacksmiths were eager to discuss their area of expertise._

 _Cia looked at the tables on either side of the Poseidon table—one was empty, so probably Zeus, if the tables corresponded with the cabin's she'd seen earlier. (Apparently there was_ _one_ _son of Zeus, but he was one of the delegates currently on his way to Camp Jupiter.) On the other side, however, was a table full, with Clarisse at the head, surrounded by her friends—her siblings, the magician corrected herself, shaking her head at the idea of a family quite_ _that_ _large._

 _All at once, all the campers stood, plate in hands, and started making their way to the braziers. Cia followed suit, but before Clarisse could explain, the daughter of Poseidon overheard Nyssa, one of the Hephaestus kids, explaining to Zia._

" _Everyone scrapes a bit of their meal into the flame as kind of an offering to their godly parents. But since you're a guest and don't_ _have_ _an Olympian parent, I don't think you have to."_

 _Cia wondered if that was her way out—not many people here besides Clarisse knew about her godly parentage. Then again, what if Poseidon got mad and zapped her with lightning or something if she didn't? She didn't think it was that likely, considering he hadn't seemed that interested in being her father before._

 _Then she heard Zia's response._

" _If I am a guest, then it is all the better to show the proper respect. Besides, I should like to thank him for hospitality. It is fine."_

 _Cia's face flushed, not that many could tell in the firelight. Zia had no connection to this culture, and still wanted to abide by its rules, and Cia, who arguably belonged more to_ _this_ _world than that of Brooklyn House was looking for any excuse she could use to weasel her way out._

 _Resigned, when she approached the brazier, she tossed a piece of meat in, quietly whispering: "Alright Poseidon, I don't really want you as a dad any more than you wanted me for a daughter, but..." She hesitated. She'd pretty much just summed up her feelings towards the sea god, but she felt she still at least_ _try_ _to be nice. "But...I promise to give it a try."_

 _It was the same promise she'd made to Carter, and to Percy, in a way. She'd do no more than try to do her part, but she wouldn't let personal confusion interfere with that resolution, at least._

* * *

 _Sadie and Walt managed to arrive in New Rome before Jason and Piper, as they took a much more direct route—Walt/Anubis summoned a 'doorway of darkness' (as Sadie termed it) that dropped them off right at the gates of the fort. Fortunately, he'd talked Sadie into sending a message explaining their plan in advance, so what could have been a_ _very_ _deadly misunderstanding was just accepted as an inevitable oddity that came with collaborating with magicians._

 _Frank was there to meet them, accompanied by Dakota. Sadie took one look at the ceremonial togas both were wearing (there were formalities for greeting foreign ambassadors, after all), and had an unpleasant memory of the caverns beneath the oasis, but Walt subtly took her hand, wordlessly reminding her of the diplomatic nature of their assignment._

" _Uh, Welcome," Frank managed—the formalities only covered so much, and he_ _was_ _relatively new to his position as praetor. "Your accommodations will be in the officer's quarters of the Fifth Cohort—"_

"— _That's an honor now, you know," Dakota put in, before taking a swing out of his ever-present canteen._

 _Frank gave an annoyed look to the older boy beside him. "Yes, of course. And it's your duty to be sure they get settled in and know where everything is." He returned his attention to his two guests, Dakota's interruption having actually spurred him beyond his nerves. "If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask—this is a learning exchange, after all. Dakota, sometime before dinner, would you mind taking them on a tour of Temple Hill? We'll see if we can get them passes to New Rome this weekend."_

 _Sadie had to raise an eyebrow at that. "Passes? You weren't kidding about the regimented training. Lord, this'll be interesting."_

" _Sadie, be nice—we are guests," her boyfriends prompted. "They were able to defeat more than a dozen of Setne's demons_ _without_ _magic, after all—I'd say we have plenty to learn. We can do it their way for a few weeks, at least." He turned to the two Romans with a small, genuine smile. "Thank you for your hospitality, we look forward to learning what you have to teach."_

 _With that, the four turned and entered Camp Jupiter proper, though Sadie couldn't help muttering, "Claud was crazy; this lot is a legion of sticks in the mud—is it too much to ask for sensible, normal Romans?" Fortunately, their two guides didn't seem to hear them._

* * *

 _Cia:_

After the morning's training, Clarisse and I decided to get an intensive one-on-one session in while Zia conferred with the Hecate campers. It was agreed that we would both use our normal weapons and go at it full-speed, full-power for a bit, to get a feel for each other's style, learning what we could hands-on and trying to adapt on the fly. Then we'd break apart, assess, and approach more methodically. Truth be told, even that was a concession—this was mostly aimed at exercise, the morning sessions were the ones for training and learning.

"And no magic!" Clarisse growled as she brought her spear into the ready position.

"Word of honor," I agreed as I unsheathed my two daggers—exact duplicates of the knives Bast had used during her time at Brooklyn House, and my usual weapons of choice. "This is a straight-up sparring match, no tricks."

After that, we didn't talk much. She lunged first, spear thrusting forward, and I ducked under the blow, moving sideways. I intended to hit her exposed forearms with the flat of my blades as her momentum carried her past. To my surprise, however, she turned the moment I feinted, and I had to skip back a few steps to avoid the head of her weapon.

We both circled, more cautious, trying to get a feel for each other's style, and I began to process with the cat's instincts Bast had left behind—a trick I'd learned at Brooklyn House. It actually was pretty shrewd when it came to combat situations.

Like right then, for instance: Clarisse naturally tended towards power, but had trained herself to be fast as well. She had a longer, less agile weapon and could force me to keep moving around until I tired out. She'd also know that for my short blades to be effective, I'd have to get inside her guard, so she'd be watching for most feints and such. My advantages included speed, agility, and the fact that I had not one, but _two_ weapons _._ And, most importantly—I had sparred a lot against Maxwell, and his iron staff was about the same length and weight as Clarisse's spear, meaning I knew how the weapon worked, more or less. There would be technicalities of her style I'd have to adjust to, but, as it stood, her natural skill and years of training were my main concerns.

Clarisse came at me again, this time swinging the butt of her spear at me like a club or staff. I smiled. Maxwell had tried that on me—once. Responding as I had that time, I grabbed the haft, and used it to launch myself up and over her swing, landing crouched just in front of her. Instead of lunging upwards as she expected, I tried to sweep her legs out from under her. Again, she adjusted quickly, jumping over the attack, and bringing her spear around before gravity even took over, forcing me to roll out of range, recovering my feet several yards away.

This time, I decided not to let her dictate the terms of combat, and immediately charged her. She turned to me, spear thrust forward in an attempt to keep me a fair distance away. This time I adapted a rapier-dagger technique I'd been taught (at BAG of all places—for one of their plays) I parried with one dagger, laid the other beside it, then twisted with blinding speed, thrusting at Clarisse with the first blade. The daughter of Ares, now, was the one skipping back, and I almost missed the thrust at my knee—it looked like she was letting the spear point droop toward the ground out of mere exhaustion, but then came the quick jab, and I reacted with an instinctive leap.

Unfortunately, those instincts were the cat's, not my own (though the two _were,_ admittedly, getting harder and harder to distinguish), as was the follow-up attack: adjusting my trajectory so that I landed on top of Clarisse, pinning the startled girl and knocking her spear from her grasp. In the ensuing scramble, I lost my blades as well, and the sparring match devolved into a wrestle and tussle until we both lay one the ground, thoroughly exhausted but laughing uncontrollably at how ridiculous we must've looked fighting like a couple of toddlers in the middle of the arena.

* * *

About a week after my arrival, Clarisse and I were just wrapping up yet another sparring session that had ended in a draw, and were sitting side by side, sipping from our water bottles. In one of those peculiarities of the world, the harder and fiercer we fought each other in the arena, the more relaxed and open that we were around each other, to the point we were definitely now friends. I'd even told her, not just about growing up Egyptian, but about the attack on DC and the fall out—events I'd only confided to Allyssa and few select others. In return, she'd told me about her journey to camp, and the past two wars from her perspective.

"What I don't get—" she said that Friday afternoon, "—is what being a good fighter has to do with being a magician. You're good without magic, and I don't see how your style leaves you time to cast spells or use potions, or anything. So what do you mean when you say you're a combat magician?"

I'd had the feeling this question was coming—when we sparred, it was clear she was always testing me, trying my reactions out and trying to prompt a specific one, even though I always promised never to use magic. "Watch," was all I said in reply.

Putting down my water bottle, I stood and walked calmly into the center of the arena, holing a knife in each palm. I closed my eyes, concentrating. It was hard—still not a trick I was comfortable with—but I managed to summon my combat avatar, encasing myself in a ten-foot tall, green holographic image of a cat-headed warrior.

Whatever Clarisse had been expecting, it wasn't that. I heard a surprised noise behind me that might've been a squeak (I'll be generous and say it was a muffled shout—albeit, a high-pitched one), but I didn't turn to face her. Instead, I very carefully made a few passes with my knives which the avatar around me mimicked before I released the spell. Closing my eyes again, I tried to regain my breath and slow my racing heart. I'd managed to hold the form for thirty seconds—a new personal record.

Turning back to my stunned friend, I managed a smile and echoed Bast's words to Carter at the start of his journey into the field of magic. "That is combat magic."

* * *

"Percy's going to be here tomorrow," Clarisse observed later that day, after pestering me for almost hour about avatar form and how hard it was to maintain, where and when I would use it in combat, and how I'd learned to summon it in the first time. "He's going to want to train with you."

She left the unasked question dangling there, and I was grateful she'd allowed me the option whether or not to go anywhere near it. "Yeah, guess so." I tried to act like I wasn't bothered, but Clarisse was a fighter—she recognized tension in a stance when she saw it. And fear, too.

"Unless you're actually scared of Prissy Percy, there's more going on here than you've let on. Spill."

Not the most comforting or understanding approach, but definitely the Clarisse approach. "I—I almost drowned once, as a toddler. Been scared of water ever since. Always avoided it like the plague."

"That doesn't make sense," Clarisse muttered, staring at me with a confused expression. "Every close descendant of Poseidon I've ever met can breathe underwater." Then realization hit her, and her eyes widened, then narrowed. "Scratch that—it does make sense. I know one Zeus kid who can fly, and another who's too scared of heights to try it. Probably a similar thing here."

With that declaration, she stood, started walking, beckoning me to follow. Confused, I did, and she led me to an area of the lake shore out of sight of the rest of the camp. "The Naiads don't tend to come to this side, so we'll have a lot of privacy," Clarisse explained.

"Do I want to know what for?"

Clarisse couldn't resist an eye roll at that question—we both knew I already knew the answer. I was just trying to believe I was wrong.

"Do you want the whole camp to watch your swimming lesson?" At my downward gaze, she snorted. "Didn't think so. Now, are you going to walk in, or am I going to push you?"

Before I really had time to weigh either option, Clarisse decided for me, propelling me forward into the water with a mighty shove. When I hit the water, it was one of those rare moments when the cat and I were in complete and utter agreement: _Hell, no; get me out of here!_ And that's what I attempted to do, except I found that my supposed friend had propelled me beyond the point that the bottom dropped off. Forget getting to shore, I was trying to figure out how to float. And what was that Clarisse was shouting?

"—Relax! Try breathing it in. I'm almost certain you can breathe under water."

I wanted to shout back: ' _almost isn't good enough_ ' but I didn't want to risk any of my precious oxygen. Eventually Clarisse must've realized that a panic attack was not a conducive accompaniment to a swimming lesson, so she plunged in, grabbed my arm, and hauled me back to shore.

After a bit of coughing and retching in the sand while the daughter of Ares grumbled about getting her combat boots wet, I rolled over so that I could see her, and sent her my best death glare. "You..." I managed to gasp out between breaths, "...are... a _horrible..._ teacher."

 **So, yeah. Did any of you really think I was going to cure her of this fear so quickly? Ha! No chance. And for those wondering, I'm only going to be focus on Cia during the training section, each of the other delegates get one 3** **rd** **-person scene—heck, she even got one—but she is the main character, and thus the focus is on her. I just wanted to establish the atmosphere and scope of the story, hence the cameo scenes. I apologize for the lack of focus in the past few chapters. I promise, if you bear with me it should level out soon; there's just a lot of moving pieces at this point.  
** **Anyway, if you saw something you liked or something you think I could fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know.**


	9. 8 Brother and Bother

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! Sorry for not posting last week. Honestly, I have had an insane summer, and it took me until Thursday to realize I'd forgotten to post, so I will be giving you guys two chapters this week to make up for it. Hopefully, that will not happen again. I don't really have too much else to say here, except that I'll try to do my best to make the tenser scenes not as cheesy as they could be.  
** **And, of course: I don't own Percy Jackson or the Kane Chronicles.**

 _Maxwell:_

I'll admit, when I heard that the girl, Reyna, would be one of the Roman delegates coming to Brooklyn House, working with the Romans didn't seem like such a bad idea anymore. Of course, Sobek didn't think that much of the idea, still, and that bull-headed crocodile raised his objections when I was practicing channeling his power—thankfully, not in a combat situation. Seriously—first time we actually speak in months, and he's tearing into me about my choice in _girls_?

" _Uh, Sobek? What's going on? Work with me here!"_

" _I don't think so, kid. You gotta be strong to channel my power, and a strong warrior doesn't betray his own side."_

I nearly rolled my eyes at that. _"Says the guy who'd challenge Horus in a heartbeat if he thought he could win? And how exactly am I 'betraying our side'?"_

" _Hey, I may want to be king, but I'm_ _Egyptian_ _, no question. You're toeing the Roman line—those scum!"_

" _Sobek, they're our allies now."_

" _Temporarily, and if they'll help us beat the snot out of that Setne creep, let them fight I say. But you're thinking about dating one of them!"_

Instantly, my face flushed. _"I am not!"_

His reptilian chuckle echoed in my head, grating on my nerves. _"Yeah, right. I'm in your head: remember, kid? I know what you think about that Reyna girl. And it ain't a good idea kid."_

" _How can you know what I think about her?_ _I_ _don't even know. I just like talking to her for now. Yeah, maybe there's potential there, but I don't know yet."_

" _But you'd like to find out?"_

" _Well, that_ _is_ _generally how we humans learn things. Besides, given how you actually tried to turn me against Cia once she started channeling Bast, I don't generally accept your social advice."_

" _Hey, Bast and I have a rivalry, what can I say? Still, your little kitty friend would still be a better choice than that Roman praetor."_

" _All because of Alexandria?"_ I shook my head. _"Why are we even talking about this? Can we get on with the combat training? My life is_ _my_ _business, not yours."_

" _There's that iron backbone, again. Alright, let's see how you do with_ _this_ _..."_

The training re-commenced (thank goodness), but thanks to that snaggle-toothed, battle-crazed reptile's interference, when I thought about Reyna again, it suddenly felt like cheating on Cia. What was up with that? It wasn't like I was—Cia was just my friend... my best friend... the best friend I hadn't been able to abandon... the only person who understood what I was going through with the loss of our Nome...

Gah! What had Sobek done to me?

* * *

 _As Jason and Piper traveled by normal, mortal means, they arrived at Camp Jupiter two days after Sadie and Walt, and Jason was privately relieved to find the camp still standing—he'd noticed Sadie's dislike of all things Roman, and hoped that diplomacy had won out after all. It was also good to see Frank and Dakota again (the two had once again been waiting to greet their visitors; though, admittedly this time was much less tense and awkward as both Jason and Piper had visited often to help with the new temples and monuments)._

 _Piper smiled as she saw Frank take charge in his role of Praetor—not for the first time, but always a pleasant surprise when she remembered Frank Zhang as she'd first met him during the Prophecy of Seven. She didn't know Dakota as well, but the hyper-active, over-sugared son of Bacchus had made a good impression on their first true encounter, after the battle at Camp Half-Blood, and she looked forward to furthering her sword training with the Romans. Her only disappointment was that Hazel wouldn't be there—the two had often sparred and trained together with Annabeth, but now all three were at different training camps for at least two weeks, according to the plan._

 _For Dakota, he was still getting used to thinking of Jason as a Greek and not a Roman, but at least the previous visits helped in that, and helped him get to know Jason's girlfriend Piper. He had no difficulty seeing the daughter of Aphrodite as an imposing warrior—her Roman half-brother, Mike, had already proven to the Romans that children of the love goddess were not ones to underestimate._

 _Frank, for his part, was relieved that his two former quest-mates had arrived, especially Jason, who had much more experience as a praetor. Yes, up until that point disaster had been avoided, but that didn't mean tensions had been dissipated entirely, or that it was easy to work with someone as determined to be different—even difficult—as Sadie._

 _Therefore, when he said "My friends, it's good to see you," he meant it completely._

* * *

 _Cia:_

When Percy dropped by Camp Half-Blood for our first training session together, I was waiting for him in the Poseidon cabin. He came in, thankfully alone, and we just kind of sized each other up for a moment. The fact that I hadn't stood up from where I sat on my bunk seemed to throw him off—or maybe it was because I'd chosen the one furthest from his when I'd first arrived.

He rallied admirably, though, clearing his throat and trying for a confident grin. "So, which would you prefer to start with—lake or ocean?"

I shifted, knowing I had to tell him, but uncertain of how to break the news. For some reason, I didn't want to let him down. Gah! This was ridiculous—it was best to just get this over with quickly. "Percy, I can't swim. I hate water—I'm terrified of it."

It took him a minute to process at first, but based on his expression, he didn't believe me. "Cia—you can't be—you're not serious...I mean, have you even tried?"

"No," I sneered sarcastically, flopping back onto my bunk, "I've just decided to run away from a major part of who I am with such a flimsy story without ever having actually tested my own theory. Of _course_ I've tried. Repeatedly."

"Well, forgive me for not believing you," Percy started, "seeing as how it would be just like you to find any excuse you could to run away from this."

At that, I stood, stalking forward until we were almost nose-to-nose (almost—he was taller). "What was that?"

"Oh, come on—you think I haven't noticed? You've only been avoiding me like the plague since you found out we were related. And Carter told me that you tried to fight against your assignment to come here."

"Well, have you ever considered that I had a _reason_ for that? I almost drowned as a kid, do you think I'm going to just decide that memory doesn't scare me now that I know some sea god who didn't even _want_ me is 'daddy dearest'?"

Percy scowled. "You're going to be using that story as your excuse to get out of everything to do with being Greek, aren't you? Have you even considered this isn't just about you?"

"Oh, of course it isn't—it was always about _you_ : the golden boy of Greece and poster child of the happy Poseidon family. Never mind that you actually have a sister who could've ended up shuffled from foster home to foster home for all our parents cared; you're Percy Jackson, so everyone's going to listen to you and side with you."

"You really think that's how my life is?" Percy was almost shouting now, and neither of us was inclined to back off. "Do you know how many years I've been the underdog—all the friends I've lost?"

"What about losing all your friends and family—except one—in a single night? Hearing your own mother agree to die in your place?"

"Maybe you've forgotten, but you have a real mother who just wants a second chance to get to know you that you ran off on a few weeks ago!"

 _That_ was going too far—insinuating that Mrs. Williams had been something less than my real mother. Hauling back, I slammed my fist into his jaw, running past him out of the cabin, wanting nothing more than to never see him again. By hell or high water, I was heading back to Brooklyn House, where I _really_ belonged.

* * *

 _Maxwell:_

It was hard not to notice when Cia came back to Brooklyn House, but we could all tell something was up—even Carter waited until the next morning to try to talk her into returning to Camp Half-Blood. She must've been really upset, because she refused a direct order, and forced Carter into a compromise: she'd spend the weekend in Brooklyn House, with us.

It wasn't until after that was all settled that she told me what had happened between her and Percy. I could see her side of things, but having spent the past week with the guy, I knew Percy hadn't meant to upset her. He'd actually been asking me a lot of questions about Cia, all in an attempt to _not_ say the wrong thing, but apparently my good friend had pushed the wrong buttons, and good intentions ended up being for nothing.

Unfortunately, I said as much to her before I realized that probably wasn't what she wanted to hear.

"Are you kidding me, Maxwell—you're taking _his_ side?" Cia's sea-green eyes were wide in disbelief and betrayal.

"Cia, there _aren't_ any sides to this—just a misunderstanding that probably needs to be worked through. You both have valid points, after all." I was probably digging the hole deeper, but I wasn't an expert in this sort of affair, and I was struggling to forget Sobek's insinuation that Cia would be a good girlfriend for me. Just when I thought I was figuring out my feelings for Reyna, Cia came back and complicated everything again. "He was definitely in the wrong when he disparaged your mom, but you _have_ been running from anything to do with the Greeks—you can't deny that."

"Oh, so it's suddenly a _bad_ thing that I'm a loyal Egyptian?"

I tensed, not appreciating the echo of a certain reptile's sentiments. "Why does everyone think that bein a good Egyptian means sabotaging potentially strong alliances in the name of stupid pride?" Too late, I realized that the insult I meant to aim at Sobek had hit a completely unintended target.

"Stupid pride, huh?" Cia snorted, standing and stalking across the room. "Here I was thinking that 'home is where the heart is' still means something."

"What are you talking about?" I was really getting tired of this snippy, unclear side of her.

Cia opened her mouth, closed it again, and repeated several times, expression alternately either furious, embarrassed, or thoughtful. "You—I—That is..." After that incomprehensible babble, she finally gave up, shaking her head and shrugging at the same time. "Never mind," she growled as she stalked out.

 _What was that all about?_

Part of me felt I should go after her, but I didn't feel like it, and I figured she would resent any reconciliation efforts made from a sense of obligation. _Next time I see her, I'll talk it over with her. That way, we'll have both calmed down by that point, and we won't just exacerbate things._

But even then, I had a feeling that, if I didn't say something then, I wouldn't have a chance for a long time, if ever.

 **So, yeah. I'm still not happy with that last scene, but I've tried my best to smooth it several times, so hopefully it's at least palatable by now.  
** **Anyway, if you saw something you like, or something you think I should fix/improve for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	10. 9 Impending Doom

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! Apologies for the awkward feel of the last chapter—I am not happy with how the last few have turned out. I'd be tempted to ditch the story for that, except I know where it's going (and I'm excited about it), so I've got to muddle through the middle and put out the best writing I can. A huge thank-you to those of you sticking with me through this: you all are amazing, and are the reason I haven't given up yet on making this a good story.  
** **As Always, I don't own Percy Jackson, the Kane Chronicles, or their associated characters.**

 _When Reyna entered the large practice room the next morning, she found Maxwell, the room's only occupant, going through fighting forms with his staff, striking so hard and moving so fast that is was obvious to anyone looking at him this was about letting off steam, not practicing for any practical purpose. As if he felt her eyes on him, Maxwell whirled to face the newcomer, staff in the ready position, guard dropping only after he recognized who it was._

" _Sorry about that—Reyna. I was just..."_

" _...thinking about something?" Reyna finished, shaking her head at the sheepish and uncomfortable look on the brown-haired boy's face. "Don't worry—I won't pry." While the training schedule she and Bobby had worked out with Carter, Cleo, Percy, and Annabeth didn't focus on straight-out combat much, Reyna had still managed a few sparring matches with the combat magician, noting her initial impression of him as a force to be reckoned with was indeed accurate. She'd taken to spending some of her downtime either sparring with him or simply talking—enjoying the chance to relax and socialize as a peer she was usually denied in New Rome, thanks to her position of praetor._

" _Did you need something?" Maxwell offered, obviously trying to let go of his tension and be helpful._

 _Reyna shrugged nonchalantly. "Not really—just enjoying the break. Thought I'd just wander and explore. It's really impressive here, even if the architecture is a bit...unusual. Are all Nomes like this?"_

 _Maxwell chuckled a little, walking over to his training bag, whispering a command word that shrunk his staff and trading the weapon for a water bottle before sitting, indicating for her to join him. After a pause, she did, and he began to explain. "Not exactly—see, a Nome actually refers to two things—the geographical region, and the House of Life's headquarters in that region. And most headquarters are_ _literally_ _underground—like where I grew up, in DC. I mean, most of us lived and worked in the suburbs, but whenever we did anything magic-related, we'd take the secret tunnel from the L'Enfant Plaza Metro Station to this huge underground maze of caverns—right under DC!" Maxwell's voice then trialed off as his face fell. "Of course, it's probably all rubble now—Jacobi's followers didn't just kill everyone in sight, part of their M.O. was stealing what relics and scrolls they could carry, destroying what they couldn't, then collapsing major tunnels and caverns."_

 _Reyna laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, realizing how painful it still was for him to speak about the loss of his home, his life before Brooklyn House. For once, Venus' words about no half-blood ever healing her heart weren't running through her mind as she sat beside the magician. No, this was not a moment for exploring or pushing for undefined romantic possibilities; to do so now would be taking advantage of the fact he'd let his guard down. Besides, she'd noticed how close he was to Cia—Percy's sister. The last thing she wanted to do at the moment was to get her hopes up only to find out that he had a girlfriend...again._

* * *

 _Cia:_

I didn't stick around Brooklyn House too long after Maxwell and I fought. If he noticed me leave, he didn't say anything. My confusion and discontent had only gotten worse—the one person I could always count on being there for me and supporting me had shouted at me in much the same way Percy had, accusing me of holding on to 'stupid pride'.

Of all people, I thought Maxwell would understand needing to hold on to home, to belong somewhere, even if that place didn't technically exist anymore. And to top it all off, I'd almost admitted my feelings for him at the worst possible moment. It would've been a cheap shot to say it then—like I was trying to distract him so that I could 'win' the argument.

I was musing sourly over all this and more as I waited for the bus that would take me close enough to Camp Half-Blood to walk the rest of the way, and was so lost in thought that I didn't notice anyone approach until he sat down beside me—and I realized he was see-through.

As soon as that observation filtered into my mind, I whirled sideways to find myself face-to-face with the very ghost we were all so preoccupied with trying to thwart. "Setne!" I hissed, trying to run down my mental list of what spells I could cast to bind him until reinforcements arrived. It wasn't a long list—like a silly idiot, I'd left my main magic bag in the Poseidon cabin and my supplemental one in my room at Brooklyn House. I wasn't good at on-the-spot divine magic, and besides—Bast's specialty was combat, not entrapment.

"Relax, doll," the sleazy, translucent creep oozed. "I'm not here to fight. I just noticed an unusual power aura, so I had to check it out. It's like a heavy Greek life-force trying to hide behind an Egyptian mask. You a demi-god or a magician?"

"B-Both," I stammered, kicking myself for answering him, every instinct telling me to run as fast as I could.

Setne's eyes narrowed as he sized me up, and I was tempted to slap him. Only the thought of my hand going straight through his vaporous form—and how weird/creepy that would be—stopped me. "Heh. More than halfway to what I want to be, and already working on balancing the two sides—I'd swear you hold the key to achieving my goal. What'd you say we team up? Once I've got the power I want, just name your reward: becoming a god yourself, money, fame, fortune, influence—some boy, maybe?"

For a fleeting second, I thought of bringing our nome back—my _family_ back—before my anger rose up and banished the image. This time, I didn't stop myself from slapping him, although it was about as _in_ effective as I feared. "Not a chance you sleazy half-bit wannabe!"

"Sheesh!" he hissed, floating away. "I can take a hint. No _willing_ help: got it. See you around sometime, Patricia Jackson."

He floated a few feet more before vanishing, but I hadn't moved from my spot on the bench, trying to restart the mental processed that'd been fried by the realization that _he knew who I was_ —and who my birth mother was (then, presumably, father). Whatever he'd meant by his parting words, one thing was clear—I hadn't heard the last of this incident.

* * *

When I re-entered the Poseidon cabin, I was relieved that there was no sign of Percy. If I was lucky, maybe I had completely missed him and he'd already gone back to Brooklyn House to continue the training exchange.

 _If he's smart, that's what he would've done._

I wasn't alone in the cabin, however. Leaning defiantly against one wall, Clarisse waited, arms crossed, and from her glare, I knew I was going to get chewed out for running away yet again. At least, I thought I was. Instead, when she saw me, she only sifted her weight slightly and said, "Percy told me what happened between you two."

I had to blink at that. "Willingly?"

"Not hardly," the daughter of Ares scoffed. "But eventually in our 'discussion', I _strongly convinced_ him to part with the information. He's a real idiot sometimes, but he was beating himself up so much for what he said at the end there, it would've taken all the fun out of trouncing him for it."

"It means a lot that you were willing though," I replied, crossing to my bunk and flopping onto it tiredly. "Everyone seems to think he was onto something in the beginning, though."

That got Clarisse's attention. "Who's everybody?"

"Carter, Cleo, Annabeth and—and Maxwell." The last part was added in a whisper, the sting of the betrayal still painful.

"Your friend from DC?" At my single nod, Clarisse raised her eyebrows, but thankfully, she let the topic drop. "You came back, at least. That's a good step. Once this whole mess with Setne is sorted out, you can devote the proper energy into putting your brother into his place and working things out."

At the mention of Setne's name, the memory of the bus stop encounter came back in full force. Before I thought through the wisdom of the choice, I'd told Clarisse what happened.

"You were face-to-face with the enemy? Why didn't you pulverize him for crying out loud?"

"Hey, I tired!" I retorted, thinking of the slap. "It's a little tough to slice someone into bits when they're insubstantial and I don't have any of my amulets, potions, or other magic supplies! But I've got a funny feeling about this..."

Clarisse faced me, expression more serious than I'd ever seen it before. "Funny feeling as in combat instincts warning you, or funny feeling as in 'why couldn't I pound him into the ground'?"

"Both—I just can't shake the impression that he's got something in mind for me specifically, now."

"Ordinarily I'd say that was ego talking," Clarisse admitted, "but you _are_ a blend of Greek and Egyptian, however much you're struggling with that, and isn't that what he's trying to do? Blend the cultures and magics? I'm going to need to tell Chiron about this, but in the meantime, watch your back. We don't know how strong the camp's defenses are against Egyptian ghosts."

I nodded my understanding, and Clarisse stormed out, probably heading for the Big House, leaving me alone with the worst company possible at the moment—my own thoughts.

 **So, yeah. This chapter feels a little better, I guess. Hopefully this is the end of my slump. One thing I know: I couldn't have gotten this far without the support of all my wonderful readers—thank you so much, you guys!  
** **Anyway, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review to let me know!**


	11. 10 Disaster Strikes

**Happy birthday to me...so my present to you guys is the next installment; hopefully, you enjoy! I'm sorry for the slow pace we've had for the last few chapters—don't worry: it picks up in this one, I promise!  
** **As always: I don't own Percy Jackson, the Kane Chronicles, or their associated characters.**

 _Maxwell:_

It felt good to talk to Reyna...sort of. I mean, I couldn't really go into what had set me off in the first place, but I'd enjoyed telling her about my home—I had so many good memories associated with that place.

But while talking with Cia about DC usually led to good memories—old memories—trying to describe it to someone who'd never been there just made me think about why they could never see it for themselves, at least, not the way it was when it was still my home.

Worse, thinking about the 'good old days' made me miss talking with, sparring with— _being_ with—Cia, though I was still too angered by our fight to admit that, even to myself.

* * *

 _Cia:_

I wasn't left to myself for too long: Percy stopped in before heading back to Brooklyn House, and from the look on his face, he'd found out from either Clarisse or Chiron about my encounter with Setne.

"I heard," was all he said, still standing in the doorway.

"I gathered, was my off-handed reply.

Percy crossed his arms. "Should it bother me that Clarisse is taking this more seriously than you are?"

I snorted, flopping back onto my bunk. "Not sure why you care—but what exactly can I do? All we know for sure is that Setne knows beyond a doubt that I've got a foot in both worlds, so to speak. We don't know what he plans to do with that information, so it's not like there's anything I can do other than keep one eye over my shoulder."

"Not sure about why I care? Look, I may not be used to being your brother, but I'm pretty sure a sibling being the fixation of a homicidal, megalomaniacal ghost is something I should be concerned about!" After his shout, Percy let his voice drop to a quieter tone. "Look, I'm sorry for upsetting you—but I _do_ care about you."

"Why?" I retorted. "Because that's what brothers _do_? You don't know anything about me, we've never spent more than a few minutes in each other's presence, and most of those occasions have ended with one or both of us storming out. Just because we're related doesn't mean we get along, or that we care about what happens to the other."

Instead of shouting in anger, as I half-expected him to, Percy simply shook his head in disgust. "Patricia, has it ever occurred to you that I'm _trying_ to get to know you—that I want to? The one thing about this cabin—it's always felt so empty. I was excited that you'd be coming; is it too much for you to be excited to? Our family may seem messed up, but it's worth trying to fix. For it to work, we've both got to be trying, though."

I felt embarrassed—I knew he was right, so why was I so unwilling to say as much? Other than one comment he probably hadn't realized was so insensitive, he hadn't done anything to hurt or attack me. Why was I so dead-set on keeping him at arm's length? Was it because he represented a side of me I was unwilling to accept because I still felt it hadn't accepted me? Whatever the answers were, they wouldn't be worked through in a single night, but I could at least start moving on in spite of myself.

"I-I'll try," said at last, truly meaning for the first time.

There wasn't really much to say after that, however hard I tried to think of a decent topic of conversation. Eventually, Percy had to leave so that Argus could drive him back to Brooklyn House, and I was only partially surprised to realize the sadness I felt when watching him go was only partly to do with the fact that he was going to my home instead of me. Yes, progress had undeniably been made that day, and I found myself genuinely grateful for that fact.

For all that, though, when I was trying to relax in the Poseidon cabin after dinner, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. I groaned, rolling over onto my back and staring at the ceiling. Was it my failure to conquer my fear off water? The sour note I'd parted from Maxwell on? The fact it looked like another girl as making a move on him? Or did my seemingly chance encounter with Setne unsettle more than even I realized?

Before any of the questions could be answered, an ominous crash just outside distracted me, and the cat instincts in my mind warned me that danger was close at hand. So what did I do?

Naturally, I did the idiotic thing: I went outside to investigate.

* * *

 _Maxwell:_

I'd just finished up a very interesting early-morning sparring match with Cia's brother when we were interrupted by a flickering image suddenly appearing in front of us. I took a step back into a fighting stance, grabbing for my staff, almost before my mind caught up and told me that I was looking at the image of a girl in a Camp Half-Blood T-shirt.

"Clarisse?" Percy asked, as surprised as I was, though I expected for different reasons.

"Percy, get down here _now_ and bring some kind of back up from that place—someone who's good at magical theories, even the Zia girl is having trouble figuring out just what happened," the girl snapped, the knuckles of the hand holding her spear white with tension.

Percy's eyes were narrowed and he muttered, "Something's definitely wrong—she didn't even try to insult me." In a louder tone of voice, he replied, "What's going on? Just what sort of backup should I bring?"

The answer we got chilled both of us to the bone.

"Someone who can take a look at what's left of your cabin, pick up on the spells that were used, and tell us where in the world Cia's gone."

 **So, yeah. I highly doubt that final revelation surprised anyone. Hopefully now you understand why I'm a lot more interested in writing the next few chapters than I have been about the previous few. (Does that make me a terrible, cruel person? Who knows?)  
** **Anyway, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I should fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	12. 11 Who You Gonna Call

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! Sorry about the short chapter last time, hopefully this one will make up for it! Thank you especially to randompizza7 for the encouraging review; it means a lot to me, given the trouble this story has put me through in the last few weeks. I have many ideas for many different fandoms in the works, but I do plan to return to the world(s) of Rick Riordan, have no fear!  
** **Warning: Some description of torture, though I tried to keep it mild.  
** **As always, I own neither Percy Jackson nor the Kane Chronicles.**

 _Maxwell:_

I went with Percy, Annabeth, Cleo, and Carter to Camp Half-Blood, heart pounding. I didn't know what I expected—a smoking crater where her cabin was supposed to be; a broken-down shell splattered with blood; or worst of all: a barren circle of ground with Sara Jacobi's hieroglyphic calling card burned into the earth—but from the outside, the cabin looked untouched.

Percy went in first, and I wasn't far behind him. Still, I heard his startled gasp before I saw the damage for myself. Most of the bunks had been overturned, and it looked like someone had taken a knife to them. Bigger knife slashes marred the walls—impossibly huge for anyone of human size—and Percy's keepsakes had been knocked from their place on the wall, though they seemed mostly undamaged.

"She summoned her combat avatar," I muttered in a daze, staring at the impossibly huge gashes. "Whatever happened, she was at least able to fight back for part of it."

"There's no blood—well, only a little," Percy observed, a tinge of hope in his voice. I didn't have the heart to tell him that, when it came to magic, that didn't necessarily mean that the victim was unhurt or even—

I had to stop there. I'd actually let myself consider that Cia might be dead. The realization was a hammer-blow to my gut; however we parted, I needed Cia to be alright, to be alive, to be the one consistent thing in my world.

Then Carter and Cleo were in there bustling around and taking in what they could, discussing theories in low voices I couldn't overhear. Annabeth had come in as well, walking over to a shocked Percy and grabbing his hand. The only other person the room was the one who'd called us here—Clarisse, who kept glancing around, muttering darkly, and fingering her spear.

Standing there in the wreckage of my best friend's cabin, with no idea what had happened to her, I had never felt more alone.

* * *

"What happened to her?" Percy demanded at last, as we re-convened around the ping-pong table in the Big House.

"It was that twerp Setne, wasn't it?"

Carter turned to Clarisse at her question, blinking in surprise. "W-We think so," he admitted, frowning. "but how did you—"

He was interrupted by Percy slamming his fist on the table. "Because she had a run-in with that ghost earlier yesterday, on her way back here. We had no idea what he wanted or how soon he would act. If I'd just stuck around..."

"Percy, stop," the Roman girl, Hazel, interrupted as Annabeth put a comforting hand on her boyfriend's shoulder. "It's like you said—you couldn't know. And we'll get her back; he took her alive—right?"

Carter nodded. "He opened up passage into the Duat. We're not sure exactly where, but we're narrowing down as closely as possible. If he thinks he needs her for some kind of ritual, he will keep her alive. We just have to find her."

"I'm going," I broke in, able to tell exactly where this is going. "If she's in any way hurt or disoriented, she'll trust me first."

Percy's expression darkened at that. "I'm coming too—she's _my_ sister, after all. We should probably take only one more person—three is the safest number when dealing with demigods and quests, and Cia's a demigod, too." He added that last part just before I could protest that Cia was a magician, and deserved as much help as possible.

Carter shifted uncomfortably. "Not trying to insult your magic skills, Maxwell, but maybe someone better suited to more types of spells than just combat should go."

"Have them be the third member, then," I retorted, crossing my arms. I didn't normally challenge Carter's authority, however much Sobek pushed, but I wasn't about to sit this one out.

"Hold on!" Percy interjected. "If Setne's trying to push us apart, we need to take a three-way balanced team: one Egyptian, one Greek, and one Roman—just like during the Prophecy of Seven."

"This is your sister's life at stake—not time to make everything pretty and balanced!" I shouted, before Carter grabbed my shoulder.

"Maxwell!" he snapped. "We of all people—the servants of Ma'at—should understand the need for balance." I sat, unconvinced and glaring, as Carter turned back to Percy. "Who would you suggest?"

Before he could answer, the girl from before stood. "I'll go. Percy and I have worked together before, and I also have a magical background of my own—albeit, of the Roman variety. Also, the Duat is your Underworld equivalent, yes?"

"Among other things," Carter, Cleo, and I chorused in unison.

Hazel shrugged. "Well, if it's close enough, maybe having a child of the Underworld along can help somehow. I may not be as good at controlling ghosts as Nico, but I _am_ a daughter of Pluto. Besides," Hazel turned to speak directly to Percy, "speaking of Nico, it's the least I can do after you saved him from Ephialtes and Otis in Rome."

I glared at Carter, daring him to throw me off the rescue team. For a second, I saw the anger in his eyes at my direct challenge, but then his expression softened slightly as he realized what I was going through in my worry for Cia. He nodded once before speaking to the rest of the group.

"Very well, then. Gather what supplies you can; Cleo, Zia, and I will try to get a more specific location."

I felt his hand on my shoulder as I turned to leave with the rest. "Be careful, Maxwell," he muttered quietly. "The Duat's a confusing place in the best of times; the others are going to need you to keep your head."

I nodded once, not trusting my voice, before jogging over to my magic bag, to triple-check that I had everything possible I could ever want to use when unleashing my fury on Setne. He was as good as dead—again.

* * *

 _Cia:_

When I woke up, I was (understandably enough) not in a good mood. I was in pain, first and foremost, especially my left shoulder—pain made worse by the fact that my hands were tied roughly in front of me, and I was lying on my left side. I took a brief moment to catalog my other injuries and try to remember what, exactly, had happened to land me in this predicament.

The pain in my shoulder was sharp but centralized—like something had punctured skin and sinew, maybe even scraped against bone. _Pleasant._ A familiar throbbing in my right ankle (which I could now tell was bound to the left in a similar manner to my hands) was the next sensation to make itself known: a sprain, but not a terribly bad one, fortunately. Various scrapes, cuts, and bruises clamored for my attention from different areas around my body, most notably a tenderness around my left eye that was definitely going to become a black eye soon—if it wasn't already—but none seemed critical. Altogether, not that bad, and nothing to account for my lapse of consciousness or current confusion. So what...?

Then, memory came flooding back: the strange noise outside my cabin; heading outside to investigate; coming face-to-face with one of the Serpopards that Carter and Sadie had once fought; getting backed into the cabin; the frantic, difficult fight; summoning my combat avatar out of sheer desperation; the creature's fangs sinking into my shoulder; a lucky kill-blow while the unholy hybrid was distracted; collapsing, wondering why no one had heard the fight and come to investigate; Setne flickering into view, chuckling as he removed the poison from the wound moments before casting a sleep spell.

 _So, creepy ghost guy saved me after sending the creature to kill me? No, that doesn't make sense. Was the Serpopard a distraction then, or some kind of sick test?_ I couldn't say which answer was more likely, but I found myself wondering, if it had been a test, whether or not I had passed. _Stupid question right now, Cia. Now, before you open your eyes, what do you know about your current situation?_

Well, I was awake—I never dreamed in pain. I was tied up, that was certain. I was lying down. What was I lying on? I took a moment to feel. Rough, hard, dirty, but mostly even. Some kind of basement or warehouse then, not out of doors. That was supported by the fact that I couldn't feel a breeze or here any kind of outside noise, but something was...off, for lack of a better word.

Curious and admittedly panicky, I opened my eyes, though, for a moment, I thought I hadn't. All I could see was pitch black, until I looked up. There was a barely discernible patch of lighter space above my head, like I was at the bottom of a hole in the middle of a cave. But as I felt around, and as my eyes adjusted, it was clear: this was no natural cave. It was too flat, the walls were too sheer, and the air reeked of an over-saturation of magic.

All at once, Setne's translucent face appeared at the opening, some five feet above my head. "Ah, you're awake. Welcome to my little corner of the Duat, doll. You know, it's amazing how many little unexplored areas like this there really are. It took me two centuries to find this one." It was subtle, but I knew he was telling me that whatever rescue party would be sent would have a duckling's chance in a crocodile-infested section of the Nile of finding me before he was done. "I realize that's not the most comfortable of accommodations—just bear with me until the ritual's all ready. Of course, any time you want to reconsider your previous stance, just let me know, and I'll have you out of there in a trice."

I purposefully yawned and turned away, counting to twenty before looking up again to see that, sure enough, my captor had vanished.

Great, now I had only the tiniest hope of rescue and an unspecified deadline for escape deep in the middle of the Duat, while being held captive by the one person—er, ghost—who'd had time to explore it well enough to find the blasted place.

 _In other words, just another normal Monday when you're trained by the Kane family._

* * *

 _Maxwell:_

The portal that Carter, Cleo, and Zia eventually summoned dropped us off some distance from the banks of the River of the Night somewhere near the Land of Demons. I know—real specific, right? That was my reaction when Carter told us that was the best he could do in locating Cia's location in the Duat.

"How are we supposed to find her? You said yourself that was the least stable part of the Duat!"

"It is. You're going to ave to do a locator spell once you're down there. It won't work from a different plane of existence. Hopefully, having Percy there with you should help—as her twin, he has a connection to her, no matter how long they've been apart. It should make the spell easier to cast and more likely to work." Carter tried to sound confident and reassuring, but the uncertainty in his word choice was not lost on me.

"We _will_ find her," I insisted, and Carter nodded.

"I don't doubt it." It sounded like he meant it, too.

Now, standing in that desolate place, ignoring the questioning, confused expressions from the two demigods as they took in the shifting, inconsistent landscape, I repeated the same four words—a promise to the friend who couldn't hear them, but hopefully would sense them, somehow. "We _will_ find her."

* * *

 _Cia:_

I wasn't about to sit around and wait for Setne to reveal whatever nasty surprises he had planned, so I waited five agonizingly long minutes after he vanished, then set about trying to escape.

The first thing I needed to do was take care of the thick, rough rope cutting into my wrists and ankles, rendering me immobile and likely blocking my magic (I couldn't seem to manage even the basic spells, and there was no hint of my connection to Bast). Craning my neck, I managed to get my teeth into the rope on my wrists. No, I wasn't trying to chew through it; I just needed the leverage to hold the loop in place while I attempted to slip one wrist free.

As I feared, that didn't work—the rope was just too tight, and if the fresh blood staining it was any proof, it had actually cut through my skin, or else rubbed it away. Wincing in pain, I growled, "How could that blasted ghost tie a rope so tight? He's freaking insubstantial for crying out loud!"

"I'll tell you how, doll," Setne replied as he flickered into view just in front of me. Startled, I did my best to scoot back. In that tiny hole, there was nowhere near enough personal space for my peace of mind. "They're an adaptation of the Ribbons of Hawthor—believe me, I have enough experience with those to know how to replicate them. I told you to wait patiently, doll. I could've done this painlessly, but I guess you've got to learn."

"Do what?" I tried to demand defiantly but hey—I was scared!—my voice cracked a little.

"See, I figured out a short cut on my little project—the immortality and becoming a god thing?" he paused, looking at me for a reaction. When I didn't give him one besides staring in apprehensive confusion, he sighed and continued. "All I need is concentrated magical energy—preferably path of the gods, but something a little more closer to the god itself than regular magic—and demigod blood."

I could see where this was going, and I tried to scoot even further away, only to be stopped by the too-solid side of the wall at my back.

"And fortunately, your blood not only ties you to Poseidon, but is—how shall we say it?— _flavored_ with path-of-the-gods magic. Not enough for both ingredients mind you, but I'm just gonna focus on the blood for a moment, and your little situation is a delightful bonus." Setne paused, as if noticing my terror for the first time. "Oh, don't worry, doll. See, I need you alive to get the next ingredient, so I won't be bleeding you dry. Just enough to satisfy the ritual...with plenty of back up, in case I don't get it right the first time. Eh, who am I kidding? You're going to feel rotten for a good long time, but at least you should get the message about trying any funny business." Abruptly, he snapped his fingers, shouting " _Tas!_ "

The ropes expanded and pulled tighter. Now my legs were lashed together at the ankles, knees, and thighs and my wrists were tied together and bound to a rope that now circled my waist. The end result? I was now immobile and laid flat on the round in close proximity to a homicidal ghost who has now holding a dark (but sadly solid) njetri blade and who had previously claimed interest in my blood.

Knife in one hand and bowl in the other, Setne approached my right arm, his touch now frighteningly solid as he turned it over and exposed the inside of my forearm. At the first long cut and the fiery pain that exploded, I bit my tongue, trying to hold in the scream hammering in my brain, drowning out all rational thought except that I did _not_ want to show weakness.

I held out as long as I could, but after three long cuts to each forearm, my resolve was weakening. When he moved to my upper arms and I was suddenly faced with the terrifying possibility that he intended to slice into every part of me, I could no longer bite back my screams. I screamed and screamed until my throat was raw, pain was my entire world, and finally, mercifully, I lost consciousness.

* * *

When I woke up, I was alone, and I had no idea how much time had passed. I was lying on my back, feeling exhausted, muddled, nauseous, and—as Setne had predicted—generally rotten. Oh, and that wasn't even counting the pain from the long, straight wounds covering my arms and legs. It seemed that Setne had avoided my torso, neck, and face—perhaps out of fear of hitting something vital, or perhaps because torturing me was nowhere near as fun after I passed out from blood loss.

There was no way I could fight—it was taking all of my energy just to stay awake. The ropes binding me had shrunk down to their original form, just at my wrist and ankle, but I doubted that Setne needed even _that_ to hold me by that point. As much as I hated it, if I was going to survive and escape, I was going to need help.

Just before I passed out, the thought crossed my spinning mind that when I'd thought the word 'help', I'd pictured both Maxwell and Percy, despite all the fights and harsh words between us, which now seemed petty.

I could only hope that they were as quick to forgive.

 **So, yeah. If any of you have read a lot of my other stories, you'll find that I do tend to put my characters through a lot physically and emotionally speaking. I tried to keep this relatively light, but there's really no getting around how painful that would've been for Cia.  
** **Anyway, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I should fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know.**


	13. 12 Never Let You Go

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! We have finally begun to enter the part of the plot that I am truly excited to write! ...Wow—in context, that makes me sound like a cruel, disturbed person. Well, hopefully you enjoy, anyway!  
** **As always, I own neither the world nor the characters associated with Percy Jackson or the Kane Chronicles.**

 _Cia:_

My thoughts are never orderly in the best of times; especially when I'm close to falling asleep my mind will drift from one topic to another only tangentially related. But as I lay there, in pain and having lost a massive amount of blood, my mind—the champion of rabbit trials—achieved a new level of distraction. Honestly, I can't tell you half the things I thought in that time: I don't even know how long I lay there, unable to do anything but wait for Setne to return and begin the next part of the ritual.

The only thing I remember thinking clearly was that, while the ropes blocked my magic, I doubted Setne could've done anything to stop me from using my Greek powers. There was just one problem: I had never tried to use them—I didn't even know if I could. All at once, I felt I'd wasted my time at camp Half-Blood by focusing solely on physical training and combat practice, refusing any opportunity to explore what it meant to be a daughter of Poseidon. Maybe I still didn't want anything to do with my father, but if learning to use his gifts could've saved me in that moment, I wished I had done it.

 _Not like I'm likely to get the chance, now._

* * *

 _Maxwell:_

As soon as we landed in the Duat, I cast the locator spell that Cleo had hastily reviewed with me, reluctantly following Carter's advice and 'tagging' Percy in the spell as a reference for the magic, essentially telling the spell to find the person most closely related to him. A glowing, holographic green arrow appeared, point inexorably of into the distance—a compass pointing us straight to Cia.

"This way," I called, setting off, only to be stopped by Percy's hesitation.

"Are you sure? Carter said you were mostly a combat magician..."

Angrily, I whirled on him. "No," I retorted witheringly, "I didn't triple-check every step of this basic spell because I couldn't care less about whether or not we found her." I shed my sarcasm there, a part of me bewildered by why I was now so furious with Percy. "Look, she may be your sister biologically, but I'm the one who grew up with her, was always there for her, wasn't ashamed to admit that he needed help from her, and was right beside her as she went through hell. You have no right to play the victim here because you suddenly discovered you have a new family member."

I stood, waiting for his response, but what it would have been (if he had even deigned to give one) I will never know—Hazel chose that moment to intervene.

"Stop it—both of you! Of course you both love Cia and want to find her safe. Well, you're not getting any closer to finding her by arguing, and we'll probably need to fight as a unit before this is over, so bury the hatchet here and now and let's get on with this rescue!"

The tension drained out of both of us at the same time. Percy, to his credit, was the first to extend his hand. "Sorry, man. I didn't mean to insult your skill; I guess I'm just not used to having a sister and the protective instincts that seem to come with the territory."

"Apology accepted," I replied, shaking the proffered hand. "I'm sorry for snapping at you like that. I'm just worried about her—she's someone worth protecting."

With that, we turned to follow the arrow, hoping to find her before it faded and I'd have to waste even more time casting the spell again. As we journeyed in silence, I mentally reviewed my reactions to the whole scenario, starting with the morning's discovery, and I could almost hear Sobek's voice in my head.

" _When are you going to admit it, kid? That soft spot you've got for the kitten ain't a brotherly one."_

I tried not to react physically, but internally, I felt something give in a kind of defeat. _"I think I admitted it this morning, you cold-blooded battle-brained reptile. And_ _when_ _we find her alive, I'll tell her."_

" _That's the kind of backbone I like to see, kid."_

* * *

 _Cia:_

The next time I woke up, I was aware of something besides being in pain, nauseated, and generally feeling weak, useless, and rotten—there was someone else in that hell-hole.

It was Setne, of course: who else would it be with my luck?

"You still alive, doll?" Apparently the moan I couldn't quite suppress was answer enough for him. "Good, 'cause I'm ready for phase two, now. Now, normally it'd be hard to figure out how to literally steal a person's magic. Normally, see, you living magicians just manipulate energy of the world around you, or channel it from your patron—you don't have any inherent powers. But since you, Miss Jackson, can't do magic the normal way, Bast left part of a cat's mind in your brain to allow you a direct connection to her. All I gotta do is take that, and I got what I need. Who knows—you might even survive. It won't matter to me."

With no further chatter, he began muttering a spell I couldn't quite make out. Not because it was quiet or that my spinning head was too much of a distraction; no, I couldn't hear him over my own screams.

I didn't know my throat could handle any more screaming, but as soon as the new pain began—the splitting headache that felt like the end of the world—I discovered that, not only could I still scream, I wasn't able to _stop_.

In that frightening, excruciating moment, I found myself wishing the pain would stop one way or another—even if it meant I had to die to escape it. I'll admit it: I was selfish, I didn't care that Setne was so close to getting what he needed, I wanted him to take it and be done with me, if that was the only way of escaping the torture he was putting me through.

 _Some hero I am, then._

That was the last conscious thought I had before darkness claimed me, granting me at least temporary reprieve.

* * *

 _Maxwell:_

I held my breath as the holographic arrow we were following began to flicker, willing it to last until we had found Cia. Unfortunately, willpower alone does not translate into magical energy, and, after a valiant fight, our inexorable compass vanished.

I was so frustrated at the loss of our guide that it took Percy's hand seizing my arm in a firm grip to keep me from tumbling into the yawning hole that opened up almost beneath my feet.

"It's alright, Maxwell," Hazel insisted calmly. "Just cast the spell again—I'm sure we're close."

I didn't turn to face her, staring down instead at the crumpled, barely moving form at the bottom of the hole. "Closer than you think..." I managed to mutter.

* * *

With Percy's help, I managed to get Cia out of the pit and cut the rope from her wrists and ankles. The wounds on her arms and legs were glaringly obvious against her pale skin as we laid her out by our impromptu camp fire. We slipped a pack under her head, and Hazel and I set about trying to clean and bind up the jagged gashes, though my hands were shaking with fury so much that I almost wasn't any help.

"I'm going to kill him," I growled as we worked. "I don't care that he's already dead—I don't care that it's a logical impossibility: I'm going to try!"

"Here," Percy said at last, handing me a flask and a Ziploc baggy with what looked like pastry in it. "Nectar and ambrosia—it should help her. Go slowly: too much could burn her up, but otherwise, it will help her heal more quickly."

I took the proffered food and drink silently, honored and grateful that he was letting me tend to her, rather than insisting on doing it himself. I moved over to Cia, propping her up as gently as possible before trickling the nectar into her mouth, whispering, "Please, wake up, Cia—please, _wake up_!"

* * *

 _Cia:_

The first sensation to return was sound: I could hear a voice that was achingly familiar, though I could neither place it nor make out what it was saying. It grew clearer, however, and soon I recognized it as Maxwell's, and my eyes flew open in the desperate hope that my nightmare was over at last.

It took a terrifying moment for my eyesight to provide me a clear picture, but when it did, I gave a sob of relief in seeing that it truly was Maxwell. There were two people behind him, but I didn't much care at the moment. When Maxwell saw that I was awake, his warm, brown eyes lit up, and the arm he had underneath my shoulders tightened its grip.

"Cia!" he exclaimed, and at his almost-shout, the other two came over, revealing themselves to be my brother and one of the Romans who'd been training at Camp Half-Blood.

I tried to sit up, certain now that I was safe, but a white-hot lance of pain from all four limbs quickly squashed _that_ plan.

"Here," Maxwell said hurriedly, probably having noticed my reaction, as he handed me a small flask. "Drink slowly, but drink."

I expected water—in my mind, it wasn't likely that they'd brought anything else—so I was quite surprised to taste my mother's tomato soup: the dish that defined rainy days of my childhood. I'd tried several times to replicate the dish since coming to Brooklyn house, but Mrs. Williams had taken the secret of how to make it perfectly with her to the grave. But this— _this_ —this was that very soup! (Admittedly without the noodles.) A part of my mind knew then that it was nectar, and I finally understood why it was both beloved by and dangerous for the demigods of Camp Half-Blood.

Maxwell was eventually able to help me sit up, supplementing the nectar with tiny squares of ambrosia (that somehow managed to taste like my dad's eggs-bacon-mushrooms breakfast surprise), and I managed at last to fill them in on what had happened since my abduction from the Poseidon cabin.

"We'll stop him, Cia," Maxwell promised, "But first, we're going to get you back home."

For the moment, that promise was enough, and I let myself lean back against him, ignoring the low throbbing that still emanated from the knife-cuts and the general weakness that came with loss of so much blood.

After glancing at the other two, who seemed to be giving us some space, Maxwell whispered quietly. "I was so worried, Cia. I-I thought I'd lost you before I'd ever got the chance to tell you...to tell you how I—how I feel..."

My eyes widened at that, and for a moment, I began to wonder if this was a hallucination or some kind of wish-fulfillment death-vision.

"If you're going to kiss my sister, just do it already before I change my mind about being okay with it!"

So much for giving us space—but at least I now knew this wasn't a dream. Which was good, because it was an _amazing_ kiss, given the circumstances.

 **So, yeah. Cia's safe, but Setne has what he needs. The story is nearing its end, with a final few chapters left to go.  
** **If you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	14. 13 Ghostbusters

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! Some of you guys apparently jumped the gun last week and thought that was the end of the story-no, not quite! But we _are_ getting pretty close to the end here—I foresee two more chapters after this one, plus a brief epilogue. Thank you all so much for your encouragement: I never could've gotten to this point in the story without each and every one of my wonderful readers!  
** **As always, I don't own either book series or any of Rick Riordan's wonderful characters.**

 _Maxwell:_

Time's always hard to measure in the Duat, but as near as I can tell, we rested another ten hours, periodically asking (by the end forcing) Cia to take more ambrosia and nectar. At first she was cooperating, but after she told us about what Setne had done—and why—she became frantic, insisting that we return to the mortal realm immediately and form a task force to take down the ghost before his ritual was complete.

"Cia," Percy tried to reason with her, "you can barely move, and we're not leaving without you. If Maxwell says that he can't summon a portal here, then he can't. Once you can walk, we'll make for the River of Night as soon as possible and form a portal, or contact Carter and get his help. It'll be alright."

"But we need to hurry!" she insisted, trying to sit up and actually taking a swing at her brother. It was a clumsy blow, one the experienced fighter blocked easily, but immediately made me wonder if Cia's wounds were becoming infected, giving her a fever.

As carefully as possible, I moved into her line of vision, taking her flailing right arm in one hand, trying to be careful of the still-bandaged scars, laying my other hand on her forehead briefly. It was slightly warm, but not dangerously so. Gently, I tried to calm her down. "Yes, we do. In order to do that, you need to get better—at least a little bit better. Try a little more ambrosia, see if it will help."

At last, she nodded in acquiescence, and I broke a small square in half before handing the smaller piece to her. I wanted to give her more, wanted to make her whole and complete and healthy—free from pain and free from this place—but I couldn't risk exacerbating the fever that was already beginning. As she chewed slowly, savoring the godly food, Percy tried to make small talk.

"What does it taste like?"

"Sunday breakfast," Cia mumbled sleepily.

Percy turned to me for explanation, but I directed my answer to his unasked question at Cia, following his lead and trying to keep her calm. "The ones your dad would make? Man, I'm jealous—no one can touch his recipe."

She nodded, chuckling a little, and comprehension dawned on her brother's face. "Ah. I always get my favorite candies from the store my mom used to work at. That's why I prefer nectar—tastes like the cookies she makes."

"Soup," Cia replied with more strength than before, now able to sit upright with only a little help from me. "Mom's soup—if I picked one over the other, I'd be a traitor."

She had a point there. Both Mr. and Mrs. Williams could and did cook often, but you never, _ever_ chose one of their dishes over the other: you took them both as the pair they were.

Less than an hour later Cia was finally well enough to walk, and it was a wary, but hopeful group backtracking to the river. I kept one arm behind Cia's back, trying to support most of her weight, keeping it off of her legs. The cuts may have healed, but she was still a touch unsteady.

When the river finally came in sight, I let myself relax—prematurely, as it turned out to be. On our right, a sleazy form appeared, more solid than a ghost had a righto be, but still not looking completely solid, grounded—human. He was flanked by a phalanx of demons, and though I'd never seen him before, the aura of power and malice emanating from him made it all too clear who he was.

Shifting around so that I was between Cia and the threat, I growled at our foe as I pulled my iron staff free. "Setne," I spat, trying to channel all of my rage and loathing into the single word.

"In the flesh! Well, in a manner of speaking..."

* * *

 _Cia:_

When Setne appeared, it took all my will power not to turn around and run. All the courage I'd regained when rescued by my friends disappeared when I had to face my torturer again. I was more grateful than I cared to admit that all three were blocking that monster from getting at me again, but I knew that I had to do something to help, despite my condition. I glanced at the river behind me, trying to ignore the rising tension that would soon erupt into all-out battle.

I was remembering a story that Clarisse had told me about my brother healing when immersed in water of any kind. Though the very idea terrified me, I had to try something—as brave as they were, those three alone would not be enough to stop Setne's demons, much less the godly-wannabe, especially if he'd completed his ritual. Taking a deep breath, I sent a silent prayer to my father, unsure if he could even hear me, as deep as we were in Egyptian territory.

 _Poseidon, if you can hear me, please help me to use your gifts. Not for my sake—I know I don't have any right to ask this of you, given that I've all but rejected your path—but let me help protect Percy and my friends._

With that, I stepped in the river, and immediately felt more alert, more grounded—better than I had since even before my abduction. Now that I had finally opened myself up to the power of the sea god, I could feel the pulsing energy of the water, and what was more, I could feel it bending to my will.

Breaking into a grin, I turned back to the main fray, aiming an arcing water spout right in the face of my one-time-tormentor.

* * *

 _Maxwell:_

I knocked away at the demons with my staff, barely needing to tap into Sobek's power at all to decimate their ranks, especially when flanked by the skilled Greek and Roman swordsmen. My rage was my strength, and it wasn't until I was facing Setne himself that I allowed that rage to meld with Sobek's battle-lust. The green aura of the crocodile god surrounded me, and took on the now-familiar form of my combat avatar as I hammered away at the ghost who had _dared_ to lay a hand on the girl I cared about.

My first salvo of blows only drove him back, but he rallied and held up a glowing yellow orb-no doubt a nasty spell of painful proportions. At this close range, it would be impossible to dodge or block it, but before I could fully process how doomed I probably was, a tight column of water blasted him dead-on, knocking him back yet again, allowing me time to complete the spell I was focusing into my staff. Beside me, I could sense Percy and Hazel coming into position, ready for the fallback plan we'd theorized about when planning our initial assault into the Duat, in case we found Setne before we found Cia.

"Now!" I bellowed, preparing to drive my staff and spell home. Another water-spout arced over our heads to distract our foe, leaving the three of us free to strike simultaneously. The celestial bronze and imperial gold weapons seemed to disrupt his form for a moment, causing it to flicker weakly, the butt of my iron staff thudded into his abdomen, and I released the spell I'd been holding.

"Wait—no!" Setne must've recognized the magic's intent in the moments before it took effect. "That's Osiris-magic! How could—you can't—you're path of Sobek!"

"And Sobek wants you gone," I agreed in the two-toned voice of myself and the god currently inhabiting my frame. "If an alliance with the god of death is what it takes, then it is an alliance we are willing to make. Greet Amit the Devourer for us, Setne."

With a final anguished scream, the ghost was dragged by magic from our presence into the judgement room of Osiris's realm. There would be no escape for him this time; we'd won at last.

The four of us relaxed, a stunned but miraculously healed Cia joining the rest of us, leaving the river behind. Percy stared at her with something like admiration or pride in his eye, but when he spoke, his voice was light, causal.

"That," he declared matter-of-factly, "was anti-climactic, to say the least."

* * *

 _Cia:_

I could've hit my brother when he said that—someone who'd been through as much supernatural nonsense as he had should've known better than to tempt fate—or the Fates (whatever)—with such a statement. But to my intense and eternal surprise—nothing came of it. We were able to safely summon the portal and return to Camp Half-Blood, reporting to a very surprised Chiron and Carter what had occurred during the rescue team's venture into the Duat.

The rest of the day was hectic, with Iris messages and giant eagles conveying messages between the three camps, informing everyone that the battle—heck the _war_ —we'd been expecting was over before it had barely begun. Everyone kept pestering the four of us for details, and it was late afternoon before I was able to slip away unseen to the still-wrecked Poseidon cabin.

I surveyed the damage idly, then began moving about in a daze, trying to return the room to order. There admittedly wasn't much I could do about the knife slashes in the wall, but I could at least right the overturned furniture and try to return the room as close to its original state as I could.

About an hour later, an extremely harried Maxwell knocked softly on the door. "May I share your refuge from the insanity?" he asked in a pleading tone that was part mocking—part serious.

I nodded. "Come on in, I could use a hand. I want to do what I can before Percy gets back—kind of an apology gift for all the craziness I put him through in the last few weeks—you know?"

We worked in silence for a moment, and I began to wonder—to worry—about what had happened to that openness, that vulnerability we'd shared in the Duat. Just thinking about the memory, I could feel that kiss again, and I found myself stealing a glance over at Maxwell, both desperate and terrified to know what he was thinking.

"Did you really mean it?" I blurted out at last. Maxwell looked at me uncomprehendingly, and I clarified, by heart pounding. "What you said—when I woke up—about how you...feel?"

My voice trailed off into uncertainty when I saw the blank look on his face. All at once, his expression shifted to one of incredulity. "Cia...of course I did. I wouldn't have said so if I didn't."

With that, the fear left me, replaced by joy I knew was reflected in the smile I could feel on my face. "Good," I said, feeling a weight disappear as I knew this, at least, was settled. "Good—'cause I did, too."

"But you didn't say anything!" Maxwell mock-protested.

"Hey, I kissed you—do you really need a translator for that?"

 **So, yeah. Things are definitely on their way to the end now. Just a few more loose ends to tie up (figuring out where the twins stand, what's going to happen to Cia without her magic, and a few final surprises), and then we'll be done. I hope you have enjoyed coming with me on this journey, and I hope you have fun with the final few installments!  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	15. 14 Second Chances

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! This chapter marks the beginning of the end, so I want to take this opportunity to thank all the readers that have put up with an odd plot, weak middle chapters, and an author tempted to quit, and especially all those who favorited/reviewed/followed—you guys are the reason I was able to finish this story. (Yes, I can say 'finish'—by the time I post this, the final chapter and epilogue have been written as well.) Anyways, let's get to it, shall we?  
** **Because I am (for some reason) required to say it: I am not Rick Riordan, so I have no right to any of his creative work. I just wanted to play in the world he created for a little bit.**

 _In the chaotic days that followed, it was revealed how difficult it was to set up a three-way council that didn't leave at least one of the three camps short-handed in the leadership department. Eventually, those in New York rendezvoused at Brooklyn House (since, thanks to Chiron's involvement, the Greeks could best be spared) and those in California were included via Iris-Message (with a rainbow that was magically sustained in order to preserve the connection)._

 _All told, the 'mega-council' was comprised of Carter, Cleo, Zia, Maxwell, and Cia for the Egyptians (with Sadie and Walt contributing from Camp Jupiter); Percy, Annabeth, Clarisse, Will, and Nico for the Greeks (again, supported by Jason and Piper via IM); and Reyna, Bobby, Michael, and Hazel (once more backed by Frank and Dakota via 'the rainbow connection') for the Romans. This meant the balcony was pretty crowded, but at least all those previously involved in the 'exchange of leaders' and its subsequent fallout had the opportunity to have a voice._

" _Bloody hell—it's over already?" Sadie exclaimed, shaking her head. "I mean, just when I'm finally warming up to this place and plotting some truly_ _excellent_ _payback for Setne, I get a message from you guys saying it's_ _over_ _?"_

 _Maxwell couldn't suppress a tired, but amused, snort. "Sorry. Next time, we'll save a piece of the action for you."_

" _You could take my place," Cia offered, and for a moment, nobody spoke. "Oh, come on—it was a joke people; I make those!"_

" _Jokes aside," Carter cut in, breaking the awkward air that had followed Cia's initial statement. "The question remains—what do we do now? Setne may have been defeated, but we can't exactly go back to how everything was before; we know about each other, after all."_

 _Clarisse shifted, exchanging a look with her new friend. Ever since Cia's return from the Duat, the daughter of Ares had been noticeably protective of the other fighter, though she was better in regards to subtlety now than when she had been Selena's 'bodyguard'. "I say we keep the training exchange in place. We were just starting to learn from each other, and even if there isn't ever another threat to all three camps, knowing each other's style would be an incredible tactical advantage in our ordinary fights."_

 _It was agreed that Clarisse's point was valid, and with the friendships that were beginning to form, no one really wanted to go back to the previous isolation. The rest of the meeting was therefore spent working out the details of the rotating training schedules, how to decide if someone was ready and able to train at a different camp, and all the other million things that had to be determined for the plan to work. It was incredibly tedious, especially with that many ADHD demigods involved (not to mention Sadie), but they all agreed it was a necessary evil, especially after Percy put in his cynical (but accurate) observation._

" _As much as Clarisse doubts we'll ever get another Setne-level threat, let's face it: with our luck, something worse is going to surface in...Oh, another three to six months."_

* * *

 _Cia:_

I wasn't really considered a part of the normal training exchange that we set up that day; I was, after all, a 'special case'. My ordeal in the Duat had shown me a lot of things about myself, not the least of which was that it was high time I accept the fact that a part of me was and always would be Greek. Therefore, it was decided that I would be a 'summer camper' at Camp Half-Blood, just like Percy, and spend the school year at Brooklyn House. That meant I had a month on Long Island before I had to go back to Brooklyn and admit to Carter and Sadie—to everyone—what I still couldn't admit to myself:

My magic was gone—completely gone.

A part of me had hoped that, as soon as Setne was defeated the magic he'd successfully stolen from me—the mind of the cat, or whatever it was that allowed me to channel Bast's power—would return. But just like the blood he'd taken before, it stayed gone; and unlike my physical wounds, my magical one didn't seem to heal at all. Not only was I unable to contact Bast at all, I couldn't even perform the little magic I'd been able to do before Jacobi's attack on my home.

Still, I couldn't accept that such a crucial part of me was gone forever. That was why, about a week after the 'mega-council', as soon as I had a moment free of any camp activities, I went back to the Poseidon cabin and sat on my bed, trying to collect my thoughts.

Now that Percy and I both lived there, my little corner was surrounded by curtains I could pull across for privacy, or open up to see the rest of the cabin. I definitely felt more comfortable there, though now a new worry was growing, keeping from completely accepting this as home. What if I struggled as much with being a demigod as I had with being a magician? It'd taken me 17 years to be able to do more than the most basic spells—I didn't exactly have that kind of time now.

I guess that's why I wanted my magic back so badly—it wasn't that I didn't want to be Greek at all, I just wanted there to be something I knew I _could_ do; a back-up of sorts.

That was why I pulled my magic supplies bag out from under my bunk, where I'd hidden it. First, I pulled out a roll of papyrus, my ink and a stylus. After a moment of hesitation, I also drew out one of my amulets—a simple one intended to boost summoning spells. I put it on, fingering it nervously for a moment, before picking up my stylus and carefully, slowly writing the hieroglyph for 'water' on the papyrus. I guess a part of me hoped that if I tried to 'blend' my two worlds, it'd help my magic somehow. But even after I tapped the glyph with my wand, nothing happened—just like the twenty times I'd tried before.

Still, there was one more thing I had to try. Returning the papyrus, ink, and stylus to my bag, along with the amulet, I instead took out my chalk, sons of Horus statues, and my last potion—this one containing the Hi-Nehm spell. (Hey, when living in a houseful of young magicians, being able to cast an extremely powerful version of the fix-it spell is more than just handy.) I carefully drew the circle and placed the statues, hoping that the ritual would boost my attempt, or that the potion could jump-start something or...

I just wanted to be able to do magic again.

I drank the potion (ignoring the flavor), stood in the circle, gripped my staff, and focused on the gouges in the wall that Percy and I still hadn't gotten around to fixing. " _Hi-Nehm!"_ I yelled, but even as I said the words, I knew nothing was going to happen. I felt no power from the potion—all I felt was sick.

As I ran to the restroom to empty my stomach of its less-than-appetizing contents, I knew I was about to break down sobbing. My last attempt—my last chance—had failed.

I wasn't a magician any more.

* * *

It took about ten minutes to get myself back under control and wash my face with cold water, trying to both wash the taste of the potion from my mouth and get rid of the red-rimmed I've-just-been-crying-my-eyes-out look. I tried to hurry, knowing that, with my luck, Clarisse would be by soon to see if I was ready for another sparring match or something.

It turns out that my luck was worse than I thought.

When I finally emerged from the bathroom, it wasn't my friend standing in the middle of the room, looking at my hastily abandoned magical circle, it was my brother. Percy looked up as he heard me enter, and at the concern in his eyes, I had to look away. I hadn't meant for him to find this set-up, for fear it would give him the wrong idea—make him think that I was still struggling to accept his side of the family.

Surprisingly though, when he spoke, it wasn't betrayal or pain in his voice, but sympathy: concern. "It still hasn't come back; has it?"

"No," I admitted, afraid that if I said anymore, my voice would betray that I'd just been crying.

After a moment, he carefully stepped around the circle, crossed to me, and laid a hand on my shoulder. "Hey, we'll work this out, Cia. There's got to be a way to get it back; maybe you just need more time..."

I shook my head. "Th-thanks, Percy, but it's time I faced the truth: it's not going to come back. This is who I am now, and I've got to let go of the past and just work on figuring out who this is, exactly."

"You're not alone in this, sis," Percy said at last, and I had to smile. That was the first time he'd called me anything like 'sis', and I couldn't deny: it felt right. "Your friends—family—at Brooklyn House won't abandon you now, no matter what. And if that Maxwell guy even thinks about it..."

I couldn't help it—I laughed. The brother I barely knew trying to 'go protective' and threaten my boyfriend—who I'd grown up with? But, like so many things in the last week, as weird as it was, it wasn't wrong. It was just a part of how my life was, and as confusing as it may seem to some, it _was_ mine. And to have Percy acknowledge that Brooklyn House was till a crucial part of me? It meant more than he knew.

"I-I know," I managed at last. "Lucky me—I have two families now." I could tell in Percy's smile that we were now both on the same page when it came to our... _unorthodox_ situation.

"Come on, Cia; it's _my_ turn to train with you. High time you got a handle on your Poseidon powers." With that, Percy steered me away from the circle and out the door, into the sun and summer air once more.

 **So, yeah. The twins finally hammered things out, and Cia doesn't have any magic left. Oh, and everyone's still going to be cooperating. Just a few more loose ends to address, and then we'll be done. Just one more chapter and the epilogue—thanks once again to all of my wonderful readers!  
** **As always, if you saw something you like or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	16. 15 The Meeting Point

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! Here it is at long last: the final chapter (not counting the epilogue, which will be posted momentarily) in Patricia Williams and Sea of Chaos. (Sidebar: You know, when I first came up with that title, I intended to work in the Sea of Chaos encountered in the last Kane Chronicles book, but by the end, it became a metaphorical reference to Cia's inner turmoil.) Anyway, sidebar over, now let the chapter commence!  
** **As always: I own neither 'source series'; Rick Riordan does.**

 _Maxwell:_

That same day, I was pacing about my room at Brooklyn House, nervous, but my long-suffering roommate was not impressed.

"Seriously, Maxwell?" Tucker asked barely looking up from his magic supplies, which he was currently in the process of running maintenance on. "You've known Cia your whole life, you've already both admit you like each other, _and_ you went through hell together—twice. What is it about a date that scares you, exactly?"

Okay, so: he had a point; though I was unwilling to admit my thirteen-year-old roommate was currently better at thinking straight about relationships than I was. "I just..." I paused. Did I really want to explain myself to him now? Okay, so arguably he was my best friend at Brooklyn, but guys don't just...well, vent, like that. Still, the smug look on his face told me I couldn't exactly dodge the coming interrogation.

"I think it just comes with the territory. First Date with a Girl You Like = Nerves. It's just automatic. Just wait for your first date—you'll see."

I don't know if Tucker was convinced, but he let me go after that. Which was good, because the truth would've sounded really stupid. I guess I'd always thought of a first date as getting to know a person, but—as Tucker himself had already pointed out—Cia and I already knew each other better than most people thought possible. What were we supposed to do, then?

* * *

As it turns out, the answer was simple: the same things we always did. As soon as I picked her up (I was probably abusing Sobek's meager ability to summon portals, but hey—I didn't want to be late), I could tell something had been bothering her. "Cia, what happened?"

She hesitated, but eventually she did answer. "My magic hasn't come back. I don't think it's going to come back." Before I could respond, she hurried on in a much brighter tone. "But, Percy and I have been working on my Greek side, and he thinks I'm making real progress. As for the rest...we—we'll figure it out. By the end of the summer—"

"—It'll work out," I finished. "No matter what comes."

"Yeah," she replied, nodding, but she was a lot more subdued now. I was beginning to fear that this new, quiet Cia was all that was left of my friend after the torture Setne put her through, when she brightened and changed the subject completely. "Now, how about that movie?"

And somehow, the rest of the evening seemed easier. As Cia had said—we'd figure it out.

* * *

 _Cia:_

After the movie, Maxwell and I had gone to dinner, and started talking about, well, just about everything—the movie's plot, how it could have been improved, the latest shenanigans at Brooklyn House and Camp Half-Blood, and even more serious topics, like how we saw our futures playing out, both if my magic returned and if it did not. Even if we hadn't set anything in stone, it felt right to know I could at least discus my hope and fears honestly with my boyfriend as well as my brother.

Altogether, the conversation would have been longer than the movie, but the restaurant had needed to close, so Maxwell reluctantly took me back to camp. After a lengthy farewell—and a promise to come by Brooklyn House for a visit as soon as possible, provided he did the same for me—I finally dragged myself into the Poseidon cabin, collapsing, exhausted, onto my bunk. (Fortunately, Percy had already fallen asleep, so I didn't have to deal with an interrogation or teasing—whichever he was in the mood for.)

You know, when Percy had warned me about demigod dreams, I'd just assumed that they couldn't be any more jarring than an Egyptian _ba_ trip—Boy, was I wrong.

* * *

 _At first, I was confused—unless it_ _was_ _a_ ba _trip, my dreams were notoriously low on details. But this was too clear—too real. I was standing in the middle of DC—on the banks of the Tidal Basin, to be specific—staring at the Jefferson Memorial. Instead of the heat of DC summers, I felt a light breeze and warm, but not sweltering, heat. That, as well as the sight and smell of blooming cherry trees, were strong indicators that, in this dream world, at least, it was spring time._

Just like the time that Dad took me downtown and we rode the paddleboats. _I know—weird Daddy-Daughter date for someone terrified of water, right? Well, it was Mr. Williams' idea to try and get me over that fear. It hadn't exactly worked—I'd been shaking the entire time we were on the boat—but the fact that I wasn't actually submerged in the water, along with the fact that my father, the man I trusted most in the world, was_ _right_ _there_ _, helped me manage to keep from having a panic attack._

" _I hope you don't mind—it was your most positive water-associated memory, so I thought it would be a good atmosphere. I'd have included the boat, but I didn't want you to think I was trying to replace him," a strong male voice behind me spoke._

 _I knew, even before I turned to see the face that Percy had tried to describe, that it was Poseidon speaking. I took in my biological father's appearance for the first time: dark hair, Mediterranean complexion, and sea-green eyes that both Percy and I had inherited (though my skin was much lighter). Still, I could see why so many had observed that Percy took after our dad and I our mom. "Uh, hi," I managed at last, wincing at how weak it was._

 _If it was any consolation, Poseidon seemed just as uncomfortable as I was. "I—I don't do this often, Patricia, but given that prayer in the Duat, I—I thought we might be a bit overdue for—for a talk."_

 _Just what every girl wants to hear from her biological dad the first time she meets him—right?_

" _Thanks for answering that, by the way. I know I haven't been the best daughter—"_

" _But you were..." Poseidon interrupted, with a nod towards the Tidal Basin, and at the monument beyond, which hid one of the entrances to the Nome. "...to them. I am glad they cared for you when I and your mother could—did—not. I'd intended to guide you to camp shortly after your thirteenth birthday, or after the Titan War, if things got bad. But once you were taken in by magicians, you were beyond my reach."_

 _I blushed, looking away. "Would I have heard from you directly anyway—learned the truth?"_

" _Not for several years," the sea god admitted, having the grace to look sheepish, at least. "But their magic didn't just block the gods from reaching you; it hid you from monsters as well. And they treated you as their own..."_

" _I was," I answered automatically. "Just because they chose me instead of conceiving me didn't mean I was ever any less theirs. And just because..." I took a deep breath, but the following words needed to be said: "...And just because I was loved and raised by them doesn't make me any less yours, I guess. It just took me a while to realize that."_

" _It also took me a while to understand," Poseidon admitted, coming to stand next to me as we stared out over the sun-dappled water. "I just hope you know I am as proud to claim you as I was your brother. You are both my children, and both have my blessing. I know I am not your only father, and not the one you would turn to if you could, but I am glad you have found your way back to the rest of your family."_

" _I am, too," I told him, but my hesitation must've been clear. "I—I can accept that I have two families, two places to belong, except that I don't. I don't want to let go of Brooklyn House, but without my magic, I don't belong there—do I?"_

" _Whatever makes you believe that, my kitten?"_

 _At the familiar voice I hadn't heard in an achingly long time, I whirled to find Bast standing a few yards away, under one of the blossom-laden trees, smiling at me with a mixture of fondness and amusement—her default expression when it came to young magicians, it seemed. Before I could run to and hug her, she crossed to where I stood next to my father, standing on my other side, and ruffled my hair._

" _The blessings that are mine to give are no one else's to take. I can return what was taken from you, if you still want it."_

" _Why wouldn't I—?" I began to ask, then I turned to see my father regarding me gravely. "I have to choose—don't I?"_

" _In a way," Bast answered, "but not necessarily the way you think. You could choose Greek, you could choose Egyptian, or you_ _could_ _choose what no other magician—or demigod—has managed before: both."_

" _It would not be easy," Poseidon put in, laying a hand gently on my shoulder. "The blood of Olympus does not meld easily to Egyptian magic, and you have not the blood of the Pharaohs. But if any living demigod had the fortitude to embody the cooperation that has already been shown to be possible between our worlds, it is you, my daughter."_

 _The affection and pride in his tone on the last two words made my heart rate speed up, but even without them, there was no doubt in my mind._

" _I am and will always be a product of both worlds."_

* * *

I awoke then—or maybe it was hours later, I had no way to tell—to sunlight streaming through the cabin windows. Percy was still sound asleep, so I quietly slipped my wand from where I'd thrown my magic bag the day before, grabbing one of my knives in the other hand out of sheer habit. Holding my breath, I concentrated, and was rewarded by the sight of sea-green sparks of magic running up and down the ivory wand. I put it back—not needing to test my dream any more for the moment.

I sat still on my bed for a long while, just smiling, relaxing; and for a moment, I thought I smelled cherry blossoms under the ever-present smell of the sea that permeated the Poseidon cabin.

 **So, yeah. Cia has her magic back. What—did you honestly think I'd take it away from her permanently? No, there are too many possibilities with her...** _ **situation**_ **to throw them away like that. Does that mean I'm planning a sequel? Well, not really. But if inspiration strikes, I'm not opposed to doing one; I freely acknowledge the potential is there. Anyhow, epilogue going up in a few moments (and observant people might note the one issue that still needs to be addressed).  
As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on in my next story, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**

 **Before I post the epilogue, I want to take a moment and thank every person who reviewed this story: the first anonymous reviewer, Nothingio, blackbelt917, hclary, Bluedrago32, randompizza7, and KenzieAthena—as well as all of you who favorited, followed, or just dropped in and read. Thank you so much!**


	17. Epilogue

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here, with the final installment of** _ **Patricia Williams and the Sea of Chaos**_ **. For one last time, I would like to extend my most heartfelt thanks to my loyal readers who have come with me this far and helped me through my lack of inspiration and bouts of writer's block. I hope you have enjoyed the journey, including this final step of it.  
** **Because it must be said: Rick Riordan owns Percy Jackson and the Kane Chronicles; I do not.**

Nearly everything had been taken care of. Now that her magic was back, she'd reconciled with her father and brother, and even gone on her first date with Maxwell, Cia's world was almost complete.

Almost.

There was one more thing she had to do before the summer's adventure could be considered closed. Admittedly, it took her quite a bit of time to work up her nerves to do it, but Percy had been a great help in that area, quietly supporting her, and not pressing until he felt she was ready. At last, she agreed with him, and the two got permission to leave Camp Half-Blood for a few hours.

As the two siblings walked side-by-side down the streets of New York City, Cia felt her nerves almost fail her several times, but she couldn't bring herself to give up now that she'd come so far.

Finally, they stood before an apartment door she'd seen only one time. Percy took out his key, and let the two of them in. "Mom?" he called, standing a little in front of his sister, sensing her fear.

Sally Jackson walked into her living room at her son's voice, stopping in her tracks at the sight of _both_ of her children standing awkwardly before her. Her face became the picture of longing, but she didn't dare take one more step forward, for fear of startling her daughter into bolting—which it looked as if she was ready to do at a moment's notice.

"Patricia?" Sally asked tentatively.

Percy stepped aside, letting his sister take one step, then another, towards their mother. "N-nice to meet you," Cia managed at last, stammering on the carefully-practiced words. "I-I'm Patricia Williams, but I'm also Patricia Jackson. If you still want—I-I'd love the chance to get to know you."

Without another word, Sally let her composed mask slip for that moment, rushing forward to embrace both of her children, eternally grateful when they both hugged her back.

 **So, yeah. Now Cia's in position to being rediscovering herself yet again. I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again: you guys are the only reason the story ever got this far, and I am beyond grateful for every single review, favorite, or follow—for every single reader. I love you guys!**


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